From sawdust to Windsor Castle

Presented to the

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO
LIBRARY

by the

ONTARIO LEGISLATIVE
LIBRARY

1980

■'jRi* -^^

Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive

in 2010 witii funding from

University of Toronto

littp://www.arcliive.org/details/fromsawdusttowinOOwalk

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Green Room
Gossip

By ARCHIBALD HADDON
Crown 8vo. Cloth. 6s. Od. net.

A notable book on the contemporary theatre by
the well-known dramatic critic of "The Daily
Express." All the principal happenings of the
London Stage during the last few years are discussed
with astonishing freedom of expression. One of its
most attractive features is a considerable number of
vivacious pen-sketches of leading actors and actresses
in their dressing-rooms. Another section " When
the Censor Nods " deals with certain notorious prO'
ductions which startled London playgoers. The
book being indexed is a useful work of reference.

LONDON : STANLEY PAUL 6? CO.
31, ESSEX STREET, W.C.2.

lMn,n>iral Walkrr in private life
ai 71 years of a-ie

FROM SAWDUST TO
WINDSOR CASTLE

BY

WHIMSICAL WALKER"

(The famous Drury Lane Cloujn) C\

^5'-18a4

With eight full page half-tone illustrations

LONDON :

STANLEY PAUL & CO.

31, ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C.2

LIBRARY r

First published in 1922

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Facing
Page

Whimsical Walker in private life at 71 years of

age . . . . . • • . frontispiece

The best friend I ever had in the Theatrical Profession 32

The Royal Windsor Castle Programme . . . . 64

Whimsical Walker as old " Daniel Peggotty," in

Hepworth^s film, " David Copper field " . . 96

Whimsical Walker, in his studio, writing his life . . 96

All ready to appear before the British Public, Drury

Lane Theatre Pantomime . . . . . . 128

Whimsical Walker as " The Single Gentleman " in

HepxvortKs film, ''''The Old Curiosity Shop".. 160-

Whimsical Walker and the Drury Lane Harlequinade
entertaining the Lord and Lady Mayoress and
children at the Mansion House, London, in aid
of the Blind Children of London . . . . 160

Whimsical Walker as he appeared before H.M.
Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria, by command,
Windsor Castle, 25th February, 1886.. .. 192

Whimsical Walker rehearsing a love scene with Miss

Nancy Buckland, Drury Lane Theatre Stage . . 192

Whimsical Walker enjoying the sea air, Gorleston-

on-Sea . . . . . . . . . . 228

Mr. and Mrs. W. Walker at their home at Peggotty^s
Hut, Gorleston-on-Sea, with their mascot cat
'■''Whimmy*' .. .. .. .. 228

From Sawdust to
Windsor Castle

CHAPTER I

"My father and mother. My mother dies and my father marries
again. A bad time with stepmother. When nine years old
I run away. My first " engagement." Odd experiences.
I try to be a photographer and come to grief. Another engage-
ment— " A hving head without a body." With Bedell's show
at Whitby. My first " panto " part. How I got to London.
I make the acquaintance of Morris Abrahams, who sends me
home. Am engaged by Pablo Fangue, the circus proprietor.
My training. Thanks to my face I am made a clown. Pablo
Fangue an admirable master.

I WAS born in Hull in the year — well, it doesn't
much matter what year it was. My mother kept
a public house in Paragon Street with the odd
name of the " March of Intellect," and it happened
that Cooke's Circus, of which Robert Stanley
Walker was manager, came to the theatre. Robert
Walker fell in love with the hostess of the " March
of Intellect," married her, and so I was brought
into the world.

I was three years old and my sister Rachel
one year and three months younger, when my
mother was taken ill. She was ordered to Torquay,
where she died. Five years later my father married
again, and giving up circus life became proprietor
of Castle Farm, Mile End, Hazel Grove, Stockport.

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

At Castle Farm were cows, pigs, a horse, fowls,
etc., and the familiarity with animals which
afterwards served me in such good stead in later
life began here. Something else must also have
begun — my " whimsicality," only it wasn't called
by that name. I must have been a wrong-headed
urchin, always going my own way in preference
to other people's. Anyway, according to my
stepmother, I could do nothing right ; thrashings
followed, and young as I was — only nine years —
I made up my mind to run away.

One day I was sent with my stepmother's
mother to Stockport market to sell butter and
eggs, and was left by her in charge of the stall.
Here was the very chance and I took it. I sold
the stock on my own account and went off with
the money to Manchester.

The showman's spirit must have been in my
blood, for instinctively I turned towards Knott
Mill Fair which was being held just off Deansgate.
I chummed on with a boy I met ; I treated him
to hot peas, gingerbread and nuts until I was
stony broke. My new friend was a lad of resource
and introduced me to the proprietor of a tumbling
booth who must have seen something funny in
my face (I doubt if it was a lovely one) which
took his fancy. " Put on some togs," said he,
" knock about on the front of the booth and let
me see how you get on."

It was my first engagement ! My salary was
plenty to eat, lodging and a penny or twopence
a week. It wasn't much, but I felt independent,
and I tried to forget I had a father of whom I
was horribly afraid.

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Rigged up in comic clothes, my performance
was to tumble about in any way I fancied. I
suppose I must have been unconsciously
" whimsical," for the crowd laughed, and what
was more to the purpose, so also did the show
people.

I made a start at acrobatic training with the
assistance of a broomstick, trying to bend back
until my head touched my heels, but this did
not suit my youthful fancy, and my ideas of a
salary enlarging, I threw up my " engagement "
at the tumbling booth and took up with a
travelling photographer who gave me two shillings
a week and my board, but as I had to pay for
my bed I didn't get much out of it.

Looking back, it puzzles me how a photographer
could find a boy of nine or ten useful. For my
duties were to talk to the gaping multitude and
induce them to have their portraits taken ! I
suppose I was a " hit " or he wouldn't have kept
me on. I can only put it down to my innate
" whimsicality."

I had odd experiences with the photographer.
Once a hurricane blew the whole show over. The
proprietor flew into a passion, said it was my
fault and was for " firing " me right away, but
altering his mind he gave me some lessons in
photography, and leaving me in charge, went
off to find a " pitch " in another town.

I suppose I imagined I was a full-blown artist,
and a woman with her baby coming along, I in-
duced her to give me a sitting and sent her away
with an awful production for which I charged

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

her eight eenpence. The next day her husband
descended upon me in the shape of a burly drunken
coUier who threatened to kill me unless I returned
the money. Unluckily I'd spent it, but I pacified
him by offering to take the lady and baby again.
He vanished into a public house, and deciding
that art was not my vocation, I fled and left the
booth to its own devices. What became of it I
never knew.

Ashton Fair was on and here I presented my-
self and was recognised by a showman named
Randal Williams. Williams wanted a boy to
play a part called " A living head without a body,"
a sort of trick which anticipated a portion of
Maskelyne and Cooke's well-known entertainment
years after. All I had to do was to put on a wig
and old whiskers and go underneath the stage
about a dozen times a dav, and at a given signal
put my head through a small trap door, my body
of course being concealed. The exhibitor would
then say, " Open your eyes — can you see ? "
" Yes," was my reply. " Turn your eyes to the
right — now to the left. Smoke a cigarette,"
etc.

One day some mischievous urchin stuck a pin
into my body. I dived down to punch the young
rascal. It was the critical moment of the show
and when the trap opened there was no head !
The audience thought they had been swindled
and went for the proprietor who went for me.
That was the end of my " living head " engagement.

I then joined a hanky-panky show of con-
jurors. With my face blackened I was called
** Jumbo " — the recognised name in those days

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

for a comic fiigger. I imagine I then " found "
myself. I certainly was a huge success and
suddenly became the greatest boy on the parade.
By the time we reached W^hitby in the winter
of that year I had mastered the mysteries of
conjuring.

At WTiitby Mrs. Bedell, the proprietress, rented
a ramshackle structure dubbed the " Theatre
Royal," which let in the rain to such an extent
that sometimes there were two or three feet of
water under the stage. We opened three nights
a week with the " legitimate," " Maria Martin,"
" East Lynne," etc., and we also produced a panto-
mime, " The Babes in the Wood." I was one
of the " Babes " and Polly Bedell, Mrs. Bedell's
daughter, the other ; and the scene painter was
the clown, Billy Baker, who also made the
properties.

One wet night a dreadful fiasco came about.
In the last scene the two little dears ascended
to Heaven after being covered with leaves (which
we collected every morning from the country)
by the dear little robins, one of which, by the
way, was a huge " property " bird that became
a codfish in the harlequinade. On this particular
night the box containing the babes was ascending
to Heaven when one of the ropes broke and exit
the babes under the stage into a watery grave !
That was the end of the panto.

Young as I was I noticed that a company of
strolling players always had its " character."
Bedell's " character " was the cornet player,
Stokes, who comprised the entire orchestra. He
had a wooden tooth and he could only play when

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

this tooth was in his mouth, and as he sometimes
mislaid it there was an element of uncertainty
in his performance, which lent it considerable
charm.

The time came when I got tired of Bedell's,
and a friendly fisherman who had a son about
my own age suggested that we should go to sea
together. It was winter time and I didn't much
relish the idea. However, I sailed with him in
his smack to London, and when I was in the
crowded streets the old yearning for show life
came back, and I said good-bye to my friend the
fisherman.

What I did in London for some little time I
don't exactly remember, but one day who should
I come across but an acrobatic troupe, the Carlos
Brothers, whom I had met at Manchester Fair
and who — thanks I believe to my " whimsical "
face — remembered me. They were showing at
the Effingham Saloon (now called " Wonderland "),
Mile End Road, built by Morris Abrahams, who
was also running the Pavilion Theatre, White-
chapel Road.

It was a very miscellaneous entertainment
that Morris Abrahams provided for his patrons
of the Effingham. Sometimes it was lurid melo-
drama of the old " Vic " type and sometimes it
was a variety show. Something of the latter
kind was being run when the Carlos Brothers
were engaged. My recollections of the White-
chapel and Mile End Roads of the early sixties
are quite distinct. The very wide thoroughfare,
probably the finest approach to the metropolis
which London possesses, was still countrified in

6

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

some parts. There was ample room in front of
many of the inns not only for waggons to draw
up, but benches and tables, arranged in rows,
for al fresco refreshments, and, clean and bright
with the greenest of green paint, invited the
weary traveller to sit and rest. Here on a fine
evening could be seen working men and their
wives enjoying themselves in modest fashion and
taking their drink leisurely and in comfort, a
thing impossible in these days of dirty four-ale
bars. One never saw young girls take their beer
or whisky as is too often the case now.

Tea gardens and dancing platforms flourished
then. There was one favourite place of this kind
on the opposite side of the Mile End Road to
that where the Effingham was situated. It was
called the Eagle, I think, and on its site the
Paragon music hall was subsequently built. Mile
End toll gate was then in existence and that
queer quaint old public-house stuck almost in
the centre of the road not far from the gate was
a prominent and not unsightly object. It was
in the winter when I was at the Effingham, so
I did not see the glories of the Fairlop carnival
and the fireworks let off in the road without any
fear of police restrictions, which welcomed the
return of the boats mounted on wheels from the
fair at the Fairlop oak, Epping Forest.

To my boyish fancy a perpetual fair went on
in the great stretch of no man's land — afterwards
I believe called Mile End " Waste " — extending
nearly a mile along the side of the Mile End Road.
Penny shows, stalls where everything which no
one could possibly want was sold, hosts of penny

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

merchants living on their wits — and most ingenious
they were in tickUng the fancy of the public —
excited groups hotly discussing any topic which
might be in the air at the time — it did not seem
to matter much what — and above all, the Cheap
Jack and his Dutch auction ! The Cheap Jack
with his glib tongue, ready wit, and unlimited
stock of impudence, was a joy, and one could
stand for an hour enjoying the fun and not spend
a penny.

Unluckily I wasn't allowed these delights for
long. Morris Abrahams had been a " pro " nearly
all his life — I believe he came out as a dancer —
and it happened that he knew my father, so that
when I told him that I'd run away he wrote home^
The sequel was the arrival the next day of a
gentleman in a tall silk hat who announced that
he was a detective and that he had come to take
me back to my father.

So back I went, very down, and of course was
received with black looks all round. Three days
went over and my old " whimsicality " showing
itself in the shape of letting the pigs loose into the
flower garden, my father had the sense to see that
the ruling passion was too strong, and Pablo
Fangue's Circus chancing at the time to be at
Stockport Fair, I was then and there sent to
Fangue, engaged by him, and in this way my
real professional life began.

Pablo Fangue, a coloured gentleman, was a
thorough master of his profession, and I have
to thank him for what I subsequently became —
without vanity may I say it ? — the greatest
celebrity in my particular line in the circus

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

business. He taught me to ride, to tumble, to
perform on the trapeze, to vault over horses, and
indeed all the intricacies belonging to circus life.
I must admit that I was not over good at riding —
you see, my face was not too beautiful — so I was
made a clown. I confess that I like clowning,
as the audience often threw oranges and money
into the ring when I made them laugh, as I often
did.

Training for the circus meant much harder
work than people may imagine. There were
three boy apprentices besides myself, and a girl
(Fanny Bluring). We boys had to get up at 6
o'clock every morning to look after the horses,
breakfast was at 8, practice at 8.30, and school
at 9, excepting when we were performing at fairs.

Pablo Fangue did his duty towards us very
conscientiously and sent us to church on Sunday
mornings. Of course, we preferred playing marbles,
and to satisfy our master, who always asked us
what the text was, we used to learn one by heart
beforehand. Maybe the good words came too
trippingly off our tongues and so excited his
suspicions, and he caught us out by going unseen
by us to the same church. That day at dinner
he was unusually nice and said quite amicably,
'* Well, my boys, have you all been to church ? "
" Yes, sir," we chanted. '' And was it a nice
sermon ?" " Oh, yes, sir." " And what were
the words ? " " Jesus wept." " Ah, and all
of you will too " — and we did.

He certainly knew something about boys' ways,
did Pablo Fangue. We used to have sundry
threepenny and fourpenny pieces given to us

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

during the week, and clever little Fanny Bluring
was our banker. All she had to do was to drop
the little coins down the bag-like receptacle for
the flat piece of wood in front of her old-fashioned
stays, and there they remained in safety till we
wanted them on Sunday, when we would gorge
ourselves with icecreams, nuts, gingerbread, and
anything we fancied. In Glasgow we spent no
end of shillings with an ice cream merchant in
the Saltmarket, and our master suspecting the
reason why we couldn't eat any dinner conspired
with the iceman. The next time we had ice
creams — but I draw a veil over the sequel. For
months after I could never face an ice cream.

I was with Pablo until he died. I was then
fourteen and I fancy I knew more about animals
than naost boys of my age. I was entrusted to
buy the hay for the horses ; I acted as veterinary
surgeon, I could tell when a horse was lame, when
he was ill I knew what was the matter with him ;
and all this useful knowledge I must say I owe
to Pablo Fangue. He was certainly one of the
best of masters.

10

CHAPTER II

I tramp from Bristol to London with my properties. A one-
day show with the " Retort " Circus at the Crystal Palace.
The seats collapse. I join Croueste and Nella's Circus. A
" double somersault over five horses by the Little Clown."
An unexpected catastrophe. How I " performed " on the
slack rope. With Powell and Clarke at Southampton. The
preacher and the monkey. I appear at the Theatre Royal,
Manchester, for a benefit at Sanger's Circus. A lion in my
dressing room ! Practical joking among circus lads. Am
tired of circus life and go in for " mumming." I take an
" engagement " at Royston's Circus at Carlisle. Playing
" Little WilHe " in " East Lynne " and the " ghost " in
" Hamlet " under difficulties. Am disappointed with " mum-
ming " and go back to the circus. My first shave. Terrible
death of Macmart, the lion tamer.

On the death of Pablo Fangiie his circus was
sold and my Hfe became one of strange ups and
downs. Looking back, if all were related, that
life would seem to be one of great hardship, but
in reality I had seen much of the unexpected
and had always tumbled on my feet, so nothing
took me aback. Besides, I had the habit of dis-
covering the funny side of things, and this was
my salvation.

11

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

After Pablo Fangue's Circus changed hands, I
joined John Powell's show at Bristol, but finding
there was no money accepted an engagement with
a circus called the " Retort " (spell the word back-
wards and you will find it is " Trotter ") which
was going to give a performance on Easter Monday
at the Crystal Palace, Sydenham. I tramped
it from Bristol to liOndon, loaded with my pro-
perties— a dancing spade, a long pair of stilts, a
short pair ditto and a little portmanteau.

The mistress of the circus was a Mrs. Bonfantie,
and I looked her up on Easter Sunday at the
Half Moon Hotel, Hammersmith, where she was
staying. I was nearly bootless and with ten
shillings she lent me I went off to the New Cut
and bought a pair of patent leather shoes for
2/11 J. Early on Easter Monday I set out to walk
to the Crystal Palace. It rained all the way and
by the time I reached the Palace my patent
leathers had turned out to be brown paper and
the soles had to be tied together with string.
No matter, I went into the ring just the same.

The circus was in the grounds, and the tent
was crowded, the people being glad of the shelter
out of the pouring rain. The seats being soddened
with wet, the audience stood upon them, the
supports slipped in the soft, muddy ground, and
then the seats collapsed. The scared crowd rushed
into the arena and I in my clown's dress got con-
siderably mixed up. That was the last of Trotters'
Circus so far as I was concerned — only one day.

In those happy-go-lucky times nothing seemed
to matter. Some money was due to me from
Trotters', and their lawyer called at the coffee

12

..^"''''■<.

-.J

ON ,'.,;.,, '

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

house, Westminster Bridge Road, where I had
put up, and paid me a bright golden sovereign.
I owed for my board and lodging and also for a
washing bill. Which should I pay ? " Toss up,"
said Johnny Purvis, my pal. We stood under a
lamp post (it was night). I tossed, muffed it and
it disappeared into the gutter ! It was an agonising
moment. Anyhow, we found the coin, but whether
we paid the coffee house or the washing I can't
remember.

The next few years was a jumble of odd experi-
ences. Once I was with Croueste and Nella's
Circus at Blackburn. Business was very bad,
so the proprietor of the circus asked me if I would
do a double somersault over the horses as he
thought that would bring a good house, and I
agreed to do so after I'd had some practice. Bills
were printed with the announcement in large
type : " Greatest wonder in the World ! The
Little Clown will turn a double somersault in mid-
air over five horses before alighting on his feet."
We onl}^ had three horses, but that didn't matter.
The night came off for this wonderful feat. The
house was packed. I had practised the double
somersault about half a dozen times and had got
on all right. However, I suppose on the night
I was over excited. I hit the vaulting board a
terrific thump, and I went up in the air. How
many somersaults I turned I don't know, but
my head came down on the ring fence and broke
it (the fence, I mean). I got up, smiled, and they
led me out of the ring. I was bad for about three
weeks, and I never tried that game again.

I remember another unexpected accident at

13

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

the same circus. A performer on the slack rope
had been engaged and we boys at practice in the
morning thougTit we would try this trick. 'I was
wearing little top boots and I put on a pair of
what we call " slings " — fastenings wiiich, attached
to the ropes, enabled the performer to attempt
certain feats without the risk of falling — round my
top boots. The boys gave the rope a good swing
and I started doing somersaults, thinking I couldn't
fall as I had the slings on. " Try the ' throw out,' "
shouted my pals below — that is, whirl myself
head downwards. I did try, and to my horror
I came out of my top boots and went crash down.
Luckily, I fell on the seats, and I got up without
even a scratch on me. Meanwhile, my top boots
were dangling in the air, and just as I was going
to get them my master came in and said, " What's
this ? " I told him what I had done. Result —
a lovely hiding for trying to do another man out
of his performance. That taught me a lesson !

While I was with Croueste and Xella two things
happened on the same day wliich fixed themselves
on my memory. One was not of much importance,
the other was a terrible business. The circus was
at Bolton, and by this time I was getting on in
my teens and had begun to fancy myself consider-
ably. I saw myself a full-blown " pro " and had
visions of an overcoat with an astrachan collar,
wide bell-bottomed trousers, my hat stuck on one
side, and with all the airs which the budding
actor then affected. I was well satisfied with my
general appearance save in one respect. I could
not grow a moustache and this made me look
younger than I really was.

14

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

The great drawback of my youthful aspect
in my eyes, was that the girls took no notice of
me. All my circus pals of my own age could get
sweethearts without any difficulty, but never a
one had I. I persuaded myself or my friends
persuaded me that the cause was the absence
of hair on my face. They worked zealously on my
behalf, but whether this zeal was genuine I have
now reason to doubt, though I thought it was all
right at the time.

To begin with they got some stuff from a
druggist which I had to rub on my face. I rubbed
and rubbed, but nothing came of it. Then Joe
Smith, one of the circus men, said to me, " Why
don't you go and get shaved ? "

" What's the good ? " said I, " there's so little
to shave."

" That's nothing to do with it. The more your
face is scraped the quicker your moustache will
grow."

Acting on the advice of this authority I paid a
visit to a Bolton barber. His charge was not high,
it was only a halfpenny. Plucking up my courage
I went into the dirty little barber's shop, looking
round before entering to see if anyone was seeing
me going in. I saw a miserable old man about
80, and directly he caught sight of me he called
out roughly, " What do you want ?" and I told
him. He got a filthy dirty towel and put it round
my neck, and I began to feel horribly nervous.
I'd been reading about Sweeney Tod, the barber
of Fleet Street, and I wished I was out of the shop.
He got the brush (I will never forget the brush —
if you call it a brush) and he put some stuff on the

15

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

brush supposed to be soap (I don't know what
it was). He was very shortsighted and he lathered
my face, not forgetting my eyes, my nostrils and
my mouth.

After scrubbing my face for a minute or two he
turned round and began stropping a razor,
accompanied by a loud muttering, which I thought

sounded like " N — ow ow ! " Maybe it

was his cough — anyhow to me he was Sweeney
Todd ! In a flash I was out of the chair — through
the door and running dowTi the streets with the
soap stuff on my face, scraping it out of my eyes,
out of my nostrils, spitting it out of my mouth,
and I ran till I became exhausted. At the show
(it was a penny circus, b}^ the way) Joe Smith
enquired anxiously whether I'd had a shave yet.
" No," said I stoutly, " and I don't want one."
Nor did I. So much for the unimportant event of
that night.

Bolton Fair was on and later, when the various
shows were closing we heard a frightful screaming.
It was then nearly eleven o'clock. We rushed
out of the circus on to the fair ground and saw a
crowd pouring from Mander's menagerie shrieking
with terror. Feeling that some dreadful disaster
had happened we ran up the steps to the entrance
and into the menagerie.

Our fears were too truly realised. A terrible
tragedy met our eyes. The lion tamer, Mr.
Macmart, was being worried and mauled by his
lions. He had been giving a sort of extra show
after the ordinary public performance was over,
to amuse a party of students, and no red-hot irons
were handy. What had happened was this :

16

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

One of Mr. Macmart's tricks was for the lioness to
lie at his feet while he put his foot on one of the
lions. By a great mischance he stumbled over
the lioness and fell, and directly he was on the
ground the lions leaped at him.

I shall never forget to my dying day the terrible
scene. One beast was at the poor man's head
and the other at his feet, roaring and snarling
like two dogs over a bone — it was frightful. We
fired revolvers with blank cartridges, hoping to
make them desist, but it was in vain. However,
at last we got him out by dividing the cage into
three parts by the shutters provided for the pur-
pose, but it was too late, the poor fellow died
within twenty minutes. He was an Irishman
with one arm and for some reason the lion probably
had taken a dislike to him, as a few years before
the same creature attacked him and so injured
his arm that it had to be amputated.

Among other engagements in my teens was
one with Powell and Clarke's Circus, during which
time the Southampton Circus was let to a preacher,
for Sunday service. It so happened that young
Powell had just bought a reece monkey off a
sailor, and on a certain Sunday morning, when
the circus was crowded to hear a noted preacher,
the monkey got loose and crept very gently to
where the reverend gentleman was. There was no
viciousness in the monkey, but he just pulled the
reverend gentleman's trouser leg. The clergyman
naturally turned to see the cause, dropped the
hymn book as though it were red-hot, and with
one jump was across that ring and through the
stable door quicker than I can tell you, his flock

17

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

scooting after him. That finished the preaching
in the circus.

Some time after this, when I was at the Theatre
Royal, Manchester, Mr. Levy, the manager of
Sanger's Circus in Deansgate, asked me if I would
appear for his benefit, and I got permission from
my manager to do so. The night came. I did
my clown's business and after I had finished I
returned to my dressing room. I was just un-
dressing, when I heard the door locked, and the
next moment I saw something move in the distance
in the corner of my dark dressing room. It was
one of the lions. I was so frightened that I lost
speech. I made myself as little as I could and did
a bit of horizontal bar on the rafters, and after
being there about ten minutes, the door was un-
locked. It was just a practical joke and I think
the lion was more alarmed than even I was. It
took about three or four men to shove him out :
he was so old, poor old dear ! This poor lion was
as docile as a kitten, but I was not supposed to
know that !

Some sort of joking was always going on among
the boys. I remember once at Astley's we let
four of the lions loose one evening for a lark.
It was more of a lark than we had bargained for.
Lions wanted catching in a large place like that —
and at the last we had to beg Cooper, the lion
tamer, to get them back in their cage.

Another practical joke and I come to the end
of my boyish " whimsicalities."

There was a clown once with Adams' Circus called
Nat Emmatt, and he had a performing goat. Nat
was always very nasty to us boys, was always

18

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

getting us in trouble, and we determined to get
our own back. On one occasion Emmatt was
in the ring and his goat was waiting at the wing
doors to go in the arena. Now this goat had a
funny Uttle tail, and we tied a halfpenny sqiiib
to the excrescence, set the squib alight and sent
him in the arena. The antics that goat performed
with " bang, bang " going at his latter end, and the
fury of Nat Emmatt, sent the audience into
convulsions. Of course, they thought it was part
of the show. A reward was offered to find out
who frightened the goat, but the culprit was
never discovered.

Summing up my young days, I can honestly
say that in spite of its hardships the circus life
of yore had its attractions. The travelling from
town to town, the buzz, the din, the excitement
of fairs, the admiration and wonder of the gaping
rustics, the jovial meetings of old chums, the
comparison of experiences, were delights which
don't exist in these days. W^hat a pride it was to
herald the coming of a circus by a procession
through some sleepy country town, the company
in full dress, the wild animals staring with all
their eyes, the band blaring and banging its
loudest, boxed up in a sort of triumphal car of
gold and scarlet, and strongly reminding one of
the gigantic trophies of gingerbread on the fair
stalls !

Then there were the catastrophes, which were
bound to occur even in the best regulated shows,
and the expedients to be thought out at a moment's
notice to overcome them — the chances whether
expenses were going to be paid or not — the vagaries

19

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

of the weather — the bad or good temper as the
case might be of the proprietor ! All was delight-
fully uncertain ; sometimes disappointing, some-
times exhilarating, but one thing was never absent
— the sense of freedom — and so long as we pleased
our audiences our mission of life was fulfilled.

For a long time it seemed as though I was
glued to travelling circus life. Yet I had dreams
that some day I should do something better,
I had wild ideas of becoming an actor, but at the
moment when I was clowning in the ring and
earning my name of " Whimsical " Walker there
didn't seem the ghost of a chance of these ideas
ever beinoj realised.

Those days were not these days when actors
and actresses without any training suddenly
jump into notoriety (for a time) so long as they
have some link with " Society." Their reputation
is established when the illustrated papers deem
them of sufficient importance to photograph them
playing with their pet dogs in their back gardens,
or when they get themselves talked about through
some eccentricity of conduct — outside the theatre.
Hard work, talent, study of the histrionic art,
appear now-a-days to be the last things necessary
to success. It is too often a question of self-
advertisement.

It was not so during the period of which I am
writing, and of course, earlier. The would-be
actor and actress without any qualification beyond
vanity and ambition and maybe influence and
money, had not a look-in. The old managers
would have turned up their noses at sucli pre-
sumption. You had to begin at the beginning

20

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

and know your profession from A to Z before you
were regarded seriously.

What did that queer showman Richardson say
of Macready, wlio, though the son of a theatrical
manager, had not gone through the drudgery of
mumming at a fair ? When the great actor was
well known Richardson was asked if he had ever
seen him. " No, master," was the blunt answer.
" I knows nothing about him ; in fact, he's some
wagabone as nobody knows — one o' them chaps
as ain't had any eddication for the thing. He
never was with me as Edmund Kean an' them
Riglars was." Many of " them Riglars," after-
wards famous in their day, from Henry Irving
downwards, if they didn't start with the immortal
Richardson, commenced their career in some
acting booth of very much the same character.

So, I repeat, there was just the possibility of
fame for me if I stuck at what I was doing. But
this is just what I didn't do — at least for a time.
I was nearly out of my teens when after all kinds
of circus ups and downs, picking up bits of know-
ledge that came in useful subsequently, I decided
to become an actor ! The life looked easier.
Being on a walking tour — not from choice, but
for the simple reason that I wasn't able to comply
with the slight formality which had to be gone
through with the booking clerk at the raihvay
station before they would permit me to ride —
I eventually arrived at Carlisle and found my-
self with Royston's Temple of the Drama, other-
wise Royston's Mumming Booth.

I was in time to lend a hand with the tilt, and
with aid of a hammer and a few tacks we had it

21

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

erected in readiness for the evening performance.
I smiled at the manager, expecting some shght
recompense for my exertions, but all he said was :

" Laddie, you have helped us out of a great
hole ; I will repay you ; you shall to-night play
' Little Willie ' in ' East Lynne,' and in the
second part you shall play the ghost in ' Hamlet '
— and do your spade dance in the graveyard
scene."

I pointed out to him that I knew neither of
the parts.

He said, *' You can read."

I admitted the fact.

" Good — we have a doll in the bed for the
dying scene in ' East Lynne ' — you will be under-
neath and read the part. As the * Ghost ' you
will read from the part which you will carry as a
baton. Don't you worry, I'll make a first-class
actor of you yet."

I thanked him and asked him about money.
He gazed at me as if I had suddenly told him the
Home Secretary would hold him out no hope
of a reprieve.

" Money, money," he gasped. " You won't
need money — you'll live on the fat of the land ;
the audience will present you with eggs —
cabbages — carrots ! "

He was right ! ! They did ! ! It was a repetition
of the old time days in Ireland when the audiences
paid for their admission in kind.

When on the Saturday night a settlement had
to be arrived at, I joined with the other per-
formers round the drum. My share came to the
magnificent sum of 9jd. I was about to gather

22

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

up my hard-earned money when a man appeared
saying he wanted the ground rent, and my nine-
pence went towards making up the amount !

After this experience I returned to the circus
life once more, and from Royston's I went to
Footit's Circus, and we opened at Nottingham.

Of all the towns in England I think I liked
Nottingham as well as any. The free-hearted
factory lasses and chaps went mad over the circus,
and I was always sure of raising a laugh whenever
I wanted one. The audiences were out for pleasure
and fun, and were not ashamed to show their
feelings. I think of the Nottingham crowds who
now fill the picture palaces, often as mum as mice,
and wonder if they can laugh as heartily as they
did in the days of Footit's Circus !

23

CHAPTER III

Am engaged at Astley's. The curious history of the theatre.
Sanger's odd ex|^edient against fire. I am a soldier for one
night in " Fair Rosamond." Recreation at the " Bower
Saloon." I play the part of a monk. The monks' revenge on
an obnoxious actor. A fight with " Richard III." Am pitched
into the orchestra. I join Adams' Circus in Yorkshire. I
make Marwood. the hangman, laugh. Am an unsatisfactory
witness in a police court case.

Sometime during 1873 I came to London and
obtained an engagement at Astley's. Astley's
was not the old circus of Ducrow and other
" Ring " celebrities, but the transformed building,
at least so far as the outside walls were concerned,
of Mr. Dion Boucicault, who in 1863 rebuilt it
with very highflown notions. He proposed to
call the new theatre the " Westminster " and to
devote it to the " legitimate " drama. The pro-
ject came to grief hopelessly. The public refused
to recognise the " Westminster," which wasn't
in Westminster but in Lambeth. Astley's it
always had been and Astley's it was to remain
to the end of its days. The " legitimate " fled —
to use the words of old Ducrow on one occasion —
the *' cackle " was *' cut," and horses came into
their own once more. But they did not reign

24

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

supreme, for that eccentric showman E. T. Smith,
who was always out for something " original,"
tried the experiment in 1865 of combining a circus
with opera ! It was of course an utter failure.

Then Sanger's had their home there for a time,
and during 1872 Lord George Sanger (who by the
way laid the foundation of his fortune in a penny
show with " Maria Martin ") took the place on
a lease from Mr. Batty and transmogrified the
interior, opening with a pantomime at Christmas
1872. Mr. Boucicault's experiment had com-
pletely spoilt the theatre for circus purposes and
Lord George Sanger restored the ring, re-arranged
and re-decorated the auditorium, and " Astley's "
was almost itself again, but with a difference.
There was now a stage as well as a ring.

Sanger's did not forget to set forth the glories
of the new home with the old name. " No ;
Astley's not gone to dust and ashes " — ran one
advertisement affectionately. " We have come
to the rescue — we have spent a fortune to restore
the dear old place " — and this was no more than
the sober truth. A singular contrivance to satisfy
the public that Astley's would not be burnt down
was the novel idea of turning the gas pipes into
water pipes should there be any necessity for
the transformation ! "In case of emergency,"
ran the announcement, " any person by turning
a lever will be able to convert the whole of the gas
jets into water outlets." Lord George, however,
did not reckon with his elephants. One of the
huge beasts broke loose the day before the opening
of the theatre, smashed a water main which
supplied the gas- water pipes, and ruined the act

25 c

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

drop ! The fashion of the day in circus titles —
" WiUiam the Conqueror and the pretty white
horse with the golden hoof " — was fairly well
indicated by the title of the piece which formed
the principal attraction.

But before a year was out Lord George Sanger
discovered that his own name was quite as good
for the public as was Astley's, and certainly more
gratifying to himself. In the late autumn of 1873
he announced with a great flourish of trumpets
the production of Mr. Akhurst's spectacular play,
"Fair Rosamond, or the Days of the Plantagenets."
Stories of the feudal times had apparently caught
on with the public. Lord George Sanger was
not one to hide his light under a bushel and he
gave evidence of this in the following advertise-
ment : " Sanger's Grand National Amphitheatre.
Late Astley's. The proprietors do publicly
challenge the entire profession to equal the
exciting and effective scene of the Battle
of Bridgenorth. Fifty trained horses in the
great fight."

As for the spectacle itself, to go over the list
fairly takes one's breath away. Here it is :

" The Landincp of Kinoj Henrv at Portsmouth,
the Grand Procession at Winchester, Coronation
in Westminster Abbey, the Great Battle of Bridge-
north, the Great Scene Morning after the Battle,
the Bower at Woodstock, the Cloisters of Canter-
bur}^ Cathedral, Interior of Canterbury Cathedral,
Assassination of A'Beckett — with four other grand
tableaux."

The names read beautifully and it seems almost
a shame to spoil the effect by relating, as I shall

26

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

shortly have to do, an inglorious episode in
which I took part.

The play was produced on November 1st, 1873,
and preceded the Christmas pantomime. It was
at Astley's in this very " Fair Rosamond "
that, not discouraged by my failure at Royston's
mumming booth, I made my second attempt to
become a great actor. The play came on after
the circus business, in which I had a share, was
over. For arena purposes half the stage, which
was adaptable, was removed, and restored when
the drama came on. I had to play the part of a
soldier, together with three others. We all wore
beautiful armour. The words we had to say did
not want much study. They comprised two only,
" To Canterbury," in reply to our Captain's
question, " Where goest thou ? " uttered with all
the haughtiness demanded by melodrama.

I was only a little chap at this time and my
suit of armour had been made for a man quite
six feet high. I'm not sure that I looked a very
noble warrior ; at all events the audience didn't
think so, and the gallery and the pit yelled at me.
Again I was a failure at serious acting and my
second essay lasted one night only. Somehow
I had the knack of always doing something wrong,
and I fancy I often involved my three companions
into scrapes, and unfortunately one of the actors
named Lee made matters worse by telling tales
of our misdoings to the stage manager. Lee was
really a fine actor and I daresay our blunderings
were a real source of annoyance to him.

Practically, so far as acting was concerned,
we were given the sack, but this didn't quell the

27

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

dramatic ardour which possessed us, and we found
solace, after our circus business was over, in visits
to the " Bower " in Stangate, not far from
Astley's.

The " Bower " — its full name was the " Bower
Saloon," but no one ever thought of calling it so
— was then falling into decay, but it was still
struggling to maintain its reputation as the only
rival to the " Vic " as a home of gor}^ melodramas.
Whatever the " Bower " may have looked like
in its best days, it had now become grimy and
shabby, and the audience was of the rowdiest.
It probably would not hold many more than some
500 people. " Sweeney Todd " and " bluggy "
plays of a like lurid character formed the staple
bill of fare, and we were able to revel in gore com-
fortably seated in the royal box, for which we
paid twopence a piece.

If I'd known as much about the " Bower "
at that time as I've learned since I should probably
have looked upon it with more interest and
respect. It was in Stangate — a somewhat slummy
street, swept away, I think, for the approaches
of St. Thomas Hospital, and in Stangate close
to the " Bower " once lived the father of the
great Grimaldi. Mr. H. G. Hibbert in his " A
Playgoer's Memories " reminds us that that
erratic genius, Robson, commenced his career at
the " Bower," and further points out a curious
if remote connection between the '* Bower " and
the " Belle of New York." Musgrove, who pro-
duced this American musical play in London
and made a fortune out of it, married a relative
of the once popular Irish comedian George Hodson,

28

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

one of whose daughters was Miss Henrietta Hodson,
who became the wife of Mr. Labouchere. George
Hodson was at one time the manager of the
" Bower " and thus suppUed the chain which
Unked this sordid place of amusement with the
bright and brilhant " Belle."

Our studies of the drama as it was presented
at the " Bower " were eventually discovered, and
the Astley manager expressed his displeasure —
why, I couldn't understand, unless he thought
the spectacle of murders (it was the murders
which we really went to see) were corrupting our
taste. Anyway he stalked into the " Bower "
one night, and spotting us, enquired sternly what
we were doino; there. Our excuse that as we were
not wanted on the Astley stage we had come to
pick up what we could of acting at the " Bower "
was not considered satisfactory, and we were
bundled back to Astley 's and given another chance
as monks.

Now Mr. Lee played " Fair Rosamond's "
father, and he had a fine tragic scene of which he
made the most, especially in his death scene,
where he was supposed to be shot through the
heart by an arrow on the battlefield. Having a
number of trained horses on the establishment
it was not to be supposed a chance of producing
a realistic effect would be lost sight of, so a whole
batch of " gees " were brought on the stage and
represented the dead and dying.

Our duty as monks was to pick up the body
of Rosamond's father, place it on a bier and carry
the latter round the battlefield among the defunct
quadrupeds. We were longing to get our own

29

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

back on Lee, and one night as we were doing the
usual mournful promenade to slow music one of
the horses started kicking. Mr. Lee suspected
the monks were at the bottom of the " certain
liveliness," and I'm afraid he wasn't far wrong.

But this was only the preliminary to our plot.
Before the next performance one of the handles
attached to the bier was half sawn through, and
it only wanted a little jerk to bring about a
catastrophe. Sure enough that catastrophe
arrived. Down fell the body ; the audience yelled
with delight and shouted for him to die again,
much to Mr. Lee's disgust, because he knew full
well that it was not his fine acting they wanted
to see, but merely the collapse of the corpse.
Another row with the stage manager followed,
with the result that the monks were unfrocked
and not allowed again to figure in " Fair
Rosamond."

I was then tried as a I^ancashire soldier in
Richard III. I had to fight the King, who of
course was mounted on " White Surrey." The
horse that played the part was a very vicious
brute, and when I saw him put his ears back and
show his teeth I made sure he was going for me.
I retreated, and backing a little too much, fell
over the footlights on to a fiddler. That did it.
I was fished out of the orchestra a very discomfited
warrior, and this was the end of my acting career
at Astley's.

My connection with Astley's abruptly terminat-
ing (I never appeared there again) I joined Adams'
Circus, well known in those days in the various
towns of Yorkshire. Off and on I was a member

30

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

of Adams' Company for a considerable time, and
strictly speaking, the episodes I am about to relate
did not take place until some years after my first
engagement, but as I shall not have occasion to
refer to Adams aoain, I insert them here.

We were at Leeds, the circus being stationed in
Cudbright Street. Charles Peace had iust been
condemned, and Armley gaol, to which he had
been consigned after his trial, being just outside
Leeds, nothing else but the murderer and his
extraordinary career was being talked about.

On this particular night Mr. Adams and I, after
the performance, looked in at one of the hotels,
and while we were there a gentleman sitting close
by recognised Mr. Adams, and said he :

" I saw your show to-night and I knew you again.
You were riding that beautiful Arab."

]\Ir. Adams said that was so, and the stranger
went on :

" Who was that funny cuss who had some fits
and performed on the high stilts ? "

Mr. Adams, pointing to me, said that I was the
individual.

"I'm very pleased," was the rejoinder; "You
made me laugh."

He handed me his card, which I didn't bother
about, as cards were often forced upon me, but
thrust it into my pocket. That night I stuck it
with others on the mantelpiece in my room and
went to bed. In the morning I looked at the card,
and something like a shudder went over me when
my eyes fell on the inscription " Marwood, Execu-
tioner." That very morning he executed Peace.
It may sound absurd, but I could not eat any

31

FROM SA\AaDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

breakfast, nor could I get the man out of my mind
for weeks, for I had shaken hands with him !

By way of contrast to this gruesome memory I
recall an odd incident w^hich happened when
Adams' Circus was at Bradford. The circus stood
on the ground where is now the Midland Station,
and I lived up the hill and every night had to pass
the " Ring of Bells," where open house was kept,
and where I was a welcome visitor. One night I
looked in while a fearful row was going on between
the landlord and a customer, a tailor. The row
was terminated in summary fashion by the land-
lord kicking the tailor out of the house. The
tailor retaliated by obtaining a summons for
assault, and I found myself subpoenaed as a witness.

While we were waiting for the case to come off,
and the time hanging heavy on our hands, plaintiff,
defendant and witness went to the nearest hostelry.
I became an object of special interest to both sides,
and they stood treat very liberally. The result was
that when we got back to the court and the case
was called I was feeling unusually fit.

What happened was something like this. After the
parties told their stories, which of course represented
the affair in totally different lights, I was told to
stand in front of the magistrate, which I did.

" What have j^ou got to say about this case ? "
asked his worship.

" Nothing," said I.

" Well, what are you doing here then ? "

" I don't know," was all I could think of saying.

Case dismissed !

But the witness hadn't finished distinguishing
himself. As I was leaving the court I was passing

32

■^^Z,:^^^"

i.-_»!_'^W»(.-JJ»&i . --e«.r«-as:'jl33iSSS>.

The best friend I ever had in the
Theatrical Profession

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

a form on which two or three poKcemen were sitting.
I needn't say that I fell over this form and that the
policemen fell with me. But nothing came of it —
they knew who I was.

By the way, it may be of interest at the present
time to note that those were days of amazing
prosperity among the coal miners. Champagne
was such a common drink that at Barnsley it was
known as " colliers' pop." It was at Barnsley
that I was invited to go down a coal mine. With
my usual want of thought it never occurred to me
that about the last costume one would select for
such a visit was a light summer suit and hat to
match. I needn't say that when I reappeared
after my ramble down among the coals I looked
fit to go to a funeral.

33

CHAPTER IV

A turning point in my career. I accept an offer to go to America
and travel with John H. Murray's Railroad Circus. The
discomforts of crossing the Atlantic. The adventures of a jar
of whisky. Our opening show at Harlum a success. Blowing
up " Hell Gate." New York scared. Odd experiences down
south. An indignant darkie thirsts for my blood. The clown
not understood in America. A Yankee who didn't like my
" general appearance." A Pittsburg " burglar." I return

to England.

While at Sheffield there came a turning point
to my career. I was still with Adams' Circus
(perhaps I might mention that some little time
before this I liad got married) which had its " j^itch "
in Station Road, and a manager who happened to
see me clowning came up to me after the perform-
ance and startled me by asking without any
preface :

" How would you like to go to America ? "
The question rather took my breath awaj^ and I
stared blankly at him for a few moments. However,
I had presence of mind enough to say :

" All right, if you make it worth my while. But
you'll have to let me finish my engagement here."

34

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

He agreed to this, so I went that night to his hotel
and we fixed the thing up, I signing a contract to
travel with John H. Murray's Railroad Circus for
27 weeks in America.

A little later I was at Liverpool after a grand
send-off at Sheffield. Adams' Company all wished
me good luck, and I departed in the best of spirits.
Having my wife with me and a little baby about
two months old, we had a few preparations to make,
but at last all was ready, and we settled down on
board the steamship Italy.

We had a comfortable state room given us.
My wife's berth was at the bottom and mine at the
top. On the opposite side was a settee. I was
specially privileged, being the only one allowed to
burn a little light through the night — because of the
baby.

At that time there were no gigantic racing Cunard
and White Star liners, and our vessel, though of
good size, gave us more than we liked of the notor-
ious Atlantic " roll." On the third night out at
sea a storm came on ; we were not allowed to go on
deck, and our imprisonment ended in our being
battened down.

I was a fair sailor but my wife wasn't, and as for
the baby it did not seem to care much which it
was. A tremendous wave hit the ship and she
staggered under it. The passengers in the saloon
were seized with a panic and started singing psalms,
which somehow didn't add much to our confidence.
My wife made sure we were all going down, and in
the middle of the hubbub the baby took a header
out of the bunk and rolled under the settee, where
it fixed itself until the ship gave a lurch in the

35

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

opposite direction, and back came baby a bit
scared but not much hurt. Of course, the
Providence which is said to have a special care
for babies and drunken men was at hand somewhere.

What with my wife crying and what with the
psalm singers and the baby yelling its loudest,
my customary self-possession nearly deserted me,
but in that unpleasant moment my " whimsicality "
came to my rescue as it has often done when I've
been in a tight corner.

I had a happy thought and I'll tell you what it
was.

It so happened that on my coming on board some
friend — I forget the name of the good Samaritan
— presented me with a gallon of Scotch whisky
of the right sort. Wliy not sample it in the hour
of distress ? was nriy question, which I at once
answered in the affirmative by opening the wooden
box which held the jar and extracting the bung,
refreshed myself with a good " go." Much
comforted, I climbed into my bunk and dropped off
to sleep. Towards morning I awoke and was con-
scious of an awful smell of whisky. At first I
thought it was a dream, but this idea soon
vanished. The w^hisky aroma was too real. The
very atmosphere seemed saturated with it. I
looked over the side of my bunk and saw that the
jar had rolled out of the box and had smashed
itself against an iron trou^i^h which ran under the
settee, and so round the steamer by the bulwarks.

I jumped out of my bunk and in my half-sleepy
condition seeing the trough full of liquid I imagined
the latter was simply wliisky and water, and that
all I had to do was to bale it out to prevent the

36

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

passengers in the next state room being annoyed
by the smell, I seized a big head sponge and the
jug of my wash basin and began sopping up the
contents of the trough. I don't know how many
times I filled and emptied the jug and still the trough
was as full of whisky and water (as I thought) as
ever. Then it dawned upon me that I was, like
Mrs. Partington, trying to mop up the Atlantic !
For the trough running as it did round the ship
and at the stern allowing the steerino^ chains to
pass through, was always full of water. It was a
sad business losing every drop of the precious
whisky, but in these days of " Dora " and " Pussy-
foot " it would have been a dire disaster. I daresay
this reads like a trivial incident, but somehow
trivialities have a way of sticking in the memory.

Apart from the whisky catastrophe, the voyage
was a terrible one — it lasted 17 days — and when
the ship arrived at New York she was minus two
boats and the deck smoking saloon. However,
the warmth of our reception made us forget all our
troubles.

We drove direct to a boarding house, No. 75,
Third Avenue, corner of Fourteenth Street, kept
by Mrs. Scholes, and I made ready for my opening
matinee at Harhim, New York.

I was at once at home with my audience, and it is
no exaggeration to say that I was a tremendous
success and so also was my wife, who was a member
of the company and a fine rider and tight rope
dancer. I have never been able to define precisely
what amuses an audience. I believe it is a question
of inspiration and maybe some sympathetic feeling
which brings the performer and his public together,

37

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

goodness knows why or wherefore. Anyhow, all
I can say of my first experiment with a New York
audience was that it really consisted of putting
in h's where they ought not to be, and the cockney-
ism went down immensely.

Fate ordained that in this, my first visit to New
York, the great business of blowing up Hell Gate,
a huge rock in the middle of the river, should take
place. We were living at Houston Street at the
time, not far from the scene of action, and everybody
was in a state of the utmost alarm. The air was
full of rumours, the least of which was that half
New^ York would be destroyed by the concussion.
Not a few of the residents in Houston Street
removed their furniture and took refuge in Hoboken
All the people in the house where I was were
prepared for the roof to fall in, and the floors to
close telescope fashion. The time for the explosion
arrived. The little daughter of the chief of the
police touched a little electric button — the rock
flcw^ into fragments and — that was all. Nothing
else happened, not even a pane of glass was broken.
But we all felt very much better.

I have fears that my recollections of my first
American tour are rather mixed. We went to so
many places. Everything was so new and fresh,
so different from what w^e had been accustomed
to in old England. There were no gaping rustics ;
no sleepy picturesque villages. No old churches.
No inviting quaint hostelries. No rippling streams
and moss-grow^n bridges.

When we went dowm south, for instance, we found
audiences divided. The whites would not sit
with the blacks. But of the two I preferred the

38

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

blacks. My word, they could laugh ! One couldn't
help being funny when one saw their black eyes
rolling till you saw almost nothing but the whites,
and their gleaming teeth stretching nearly from
ear to ear !

But it was as well to be on your guard. Once
I had to sing a song with the words like these :

There was an old woman who had three sons,

Benjamin, James, and John,

One got lost, one got hung

The other was lost and never was found,

That was an end of the three sons.

I thought it would be a good joke to sit down
by the side of a fat old negress whom I had spotted
in the audience and say to the Ringmaster, " Here's
a discovery."

" Where ? "

"Why, here."

" What do you mean ? "

" Why, here's the old lady who had three sons,
Benjamin, James and John."

At this point I left the old lady, rushed into
the arena, and whilst the audience were laughing,
a man next to this old woman, also a nigger,
stuck his hand behind his back.

" Look out," suddenly whispered Mr. Murray,
the proprietor, to me, " he's going to pop you
off."

That meant to shoot me.

I said, " Is he ? "

Well, you know there is a pole that keeps the
circus tent up in the centre, so I made myself
as thin as possible against this pole, and directly
the horse came round covering me from the-fiigger;

39

FROM SA\^T3UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

I ran out of the ring into my dressing room and
disguised myself.

After the performance was over this outraged
black gentleman wanted to find the clown who
had insulted his mother. Said he, sticking out his
chest with pride, " She never had any sons but
me."

I never tried that wheeze any more and I was
glad to get out of the town, for I was told that
had this good son, who was so ready to defend
the honour of his mother, had an opportunity,
he would most certainly have put a bullet into
me.

Perhaps a greater contrast between England
and America could hardly be found than in their
respective ideas about pantomime. Pantomime
is (perhaps I ought to say was, for I'm afraid
the juveniles of to-day have very little opportunity
of seeing the real old-fashioned harlequinade) one
of the cherished traditions of the English boy.
Fifty years ago grown-ups had not come to look
upon the pantomime as silly and vulgar. To
children the clown with his mixed notions of
meum and tuum was an old friend ; the pantaloon,
his companion and scapegoat in crime, hardly
less so. If the child's notions as to the precise
object of the mysterious flittings on and off the
stage of the harlequin and columbine were a little
hazy it did not much matter ; they completed
the picture. But in America — well, a disagreeable
experience of mine showed what was thought of
the clown on the other side of the Atlantic.

On one occasion I was standing at the back
of the curtain waiting for the signal to enter the

40

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

arena, when a formidable looking gentleman who
had somehow found his way in behind the circus,
came up to me and stared me in the face. I could
see he wasn't quite sober, but this didn't make
him any the less dangerous, I was in my clown's
dress and painted up ; and looking at me with
every sign of disapprobation he coolly pulled
out a revolver.

" Say, damn you," he drawled, " I'm going to
pop you off."

I knew the fellow meant shooting, but I showed
no signs of alarm and remarked quietly,

" Why should you ? I've never done you any
harm. You don't even know me. I only arrived
in this town with the circus this morning."

" No, you've done me no harm, but I don't
Uke your general appearance."

And without a doubt he would have expressed
his dislike in a more decided fashion, but at that
moment one of the circus employees came along,
hit him on the back of his neck with the palm of
his hand, wrested the revolver from him and
threw him down. My rescuer was only just in
time, for the fellow meant mischief. It turned
out that he was very drunk and on the verge of
D.T. But would an Englishman in the same
condition have a horror of the harmless clown ?
I fancy not.

In those days the revolver in America was far
too handy to please me. When we were in
Pittsburg murderous outrages were of constant
occurrence, and one night my wife and I had quite
a scare at the hotel where we were staying. She
had gone to her room as usual and I remained

41 D

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

downstairs playing billiards. After a couple of
games I went up to the bedroom, opened the
door, and there saw my wife sitting up in bed
trembling with fright.

She dared not speak, but calling pantomime
business to her aid, she easily made me under-
stand that a burglar was under the bed ! I
pantomimed back that I would go out of the
room and fetch my six-shooter. I did so, niade
some kind of noise, opened the door and stalked
in, calling out in a rough voice :

" Come from under that bed or I'll fire."
He crawled out — not a burglar, but a poor
little collie dog wagging his tail in the most friendly
manner. The collie belonged to the hotel pro-
prietor, of whom I bought him for a 10-cent cigar.
In my customary fashion with all the animals
I ever had, I soon taught him no end of tricks,
and he travelled with me during the rest of my
tour in America. He was the best of pals and
always looked after me in the most amusing
fashion at the various restaurants where I dined
and supped. I was very sad when the poor animal
I had come to love so much was run over by a
tramcar in Omaha and killed.

42

CHAPTER V

My second visit to America. A caravan journey across the
prairies and the Rockies from New York to San Francisco.
My experiences with Red Indians. A novel treatment of
fever. Performances at San Francisco, Java and Australia.
Return to New York. A " spiritualistic " swindle. Am engaged
by Barnum, Bailey and Hutchinson, The baby elephant
born in the show becomes my playmate. An elephant's
wonderful memory. My mysterious mission to Paris under
" sealed orders." What the sealed letter contained — instruc-
tions to buy " Jumbo." Agitation in London over the proposed
sale of the big elephant. The Zoological Society accept
Barnum's offer. Proceedings in Chancery- The matter settled.
" Jumbo's " opposition. The true story of the delay. A
mishap to his car.

I SHALL never forget my second visit to America
in 1879. It was the most delightful and novel
experience a man could possibly have. Imagine
travelling entirely by caravan and on foot right
across prairie and mountain from New York to
San Francisco, meeting little else but buffaloes
and Red Indians ! We had sixty horses with us,
an Indian guide to lead the way, and it was a
perfect holiday the whole time, a portion of the
route taking us from Portland (Oregon), above the
Conjoin Valley, as far as Seattle and through the
Rockies amid the wildest and most romantic

43

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

scenery. This was before the Klondyke rush
and Seattle was then a tiny village.

Our interviews with the various tribes of Indians
we encountered were most interesting. I expected
to find them in their war paint, but it was not so.
They were beginning to forget their native customs
under the influence of American domination.
They had not long since had definite territory
assigned them ; they were no longer free to
wander where they pleased, and they were very
sore about it. When they found we were English
they were most friendly. Had we been Americans
I'm afraid we should have had a reception of quite
a different character.

The tribe of Indians which escorted our caravans
was the Pendeton, and they were very useful
when we wanted water for our horses and did
not know where to get it. We were easily under-
stood, for most of them spoke very good English.
At first we had the old-fashioned idea that they
were treacherous, but they were nothing of the
kind. I found them a grand people. They took
an immense fancy to our coloured costumes and
once one of their chiefs — a fine old fellow of eighty
— said to me in his solemn way : "I like those
coloured things you've on."

The coloured things were the variegated tights
I was wearing in the little entertainment we
were giving them, and I made him put them on,
which he did — over his ordinary dress. Oh,
what a sight ! His friends screamed with delight,
and nothing would satisfy them but my putting
on the rest of the costume and doing a war dance
in which they joined. It was rare fun.

44

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

One day we were short of food and the friendly
old chief discovering this, said something in his
own tongue to one of the young men who vanished
and in about half an hour returned loaded with
a couple of prairie chickens procured, how and
where I can't say. To cook the chickens they
made a wood fire and planted the birds, feathers
and all, on the top. In about three-quarters of
an hour the grill was ready and the cook, giving
the chickens a few taps with his hatchet, feathers
and skin all came off. They were served up on
a tin plate with some kind of black bread, and
I can only say that I never tasted anything more
delicious in my life.

The sun was so scorching in the day time that
we found it impossible to work the horses, so we
travelled by night. The friendly Indians con-
tinued with us and one day one of the tribe was
taken very ill. When this was told the chief,
he said, " We must halt. We must find the river "
— and a couple of scouts were sent on a voyage
of discovery and came back with the news that
there was a river about a mile away.

I was very curious to see the Indian method
of treatment, in a case of fever which this was,
and the chief asked me to come with him. I
said I would, and leaving about a dozen of the
tribe to look after the caravan and horses we
travelled till we got to the riverside. Here some
of the men scooped up mud from the river bed
and built a small hut with it. Then lighting a
fire inside they baked it until it was like the hot
room of a Turkish bath. The patient was inserted
and after allowing him to remain some little time

45

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

his doctors pulled him out and threw him into
the river !

According to our European ideas this heroic
treatment ought to have finished him, but it
didn't. It finished the fever instead and in a
few days the young fellow was quite well.

When we were through the Rocky Mountains
our Indian pals left us, and two days' journey
brought us opposite San Francisco, to reach
which we had to cross a river in barges. We
remained in San Francisco a week, and from here
we commenced a most extensive tour, travelling
first by boat to Java, where we performed, more
to give the animals exercise than anything else,
and thence to Australia. Just before reaching
Australia we had rather a serious bit of trouble.
While crossing the bight between Adelaide and
Fremantle the sea was so rough that the ship
was in jeopardy, and to save it we had by the
captain's orders to throw some of the animals
overboard. With what was left of the circus we
gave some performances in Sydney and did
remarkably well, and finally we returned to New
York by a different route, after having been away
some two years.

All that winter in New York I was " resting."
The time passed pleasantly as I had made a good
many friends, and among them Sammy Booth,
the printer, in Centre Street. Mr. Booth — dear
old gentleman — was always ready with a good
cigar, and we had many a chat, for he loved to
hear yarns about the old country. I had, of
course, often heard stories of Yankee smartness,
and during my acquaintance with Mr. Booth I

46

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

had personal experience of what I think I may
call a super-instance of this characteristic sup-
posed to be peculiar to America.

One day while in Mr. Booth's office a well-
dressed man of affable manners called and gave
the firm a very big order to flood New York with
posters announcing a gigantic series of spiritualistic
manifestations, for which he had hired the
Academy of Music in Fourteenth Street, at that
time the finest theatre in New York.

Mr. Booth accepted the order and invited some
of his friends, of whom I was one, to go with him
on the night in question. We arrived at the
Academy to find the place packed to the roof.
The drop went up, discovering a gentleman
at a piano and a row of about twelve chairs.
Then the lecturer in immaculate evening dress
made his appearance and after an elaborate bow
asked the assistance of twelve gentlemen of the
audience, requesting them to step on to the stage
*' to prove that there is no deception in my
spiritualism."

Upon this Mr. Booth, myself and the others
mounted the stage and seated ourselves on the
twelve chairs. The lecturer politely thanked us
and went on to say that while he was away robing
himself the gentleman at the piano would favour
the audience with a selection from the national
airs of America. Then he made his exit.

We soon discovered that the repertoire of the
gentleman at the piano was extremely limited.
It consisted of only one air — " Yankee Doodle."
We had "Yankee Doodle," "Yankee Doodle"
over and over again ad nauseam. The tune might

47

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

have been a squirrel in a revolving cage or a steam
roundabout organ at a country fair.

We waited patiently for half an hour. No
lecturer turned up. No — nothing, in fact, save
the eternal " Yankee Doodle." The audience
grew fidgety ; then somebody shouted, somebody
else followed, and at last dimly realising that they
had been " had," an indignant crowd rushed upon
the stage, bent upon taking the lives of the twelve
gentlemen in the twelve chairs under the im-
pression that they were parties in the swindle.
Nothing but the fact of Mr. Booth being extremely
well known saved us. Yells were heard for the
money to be returned, but no money was forth-
coming, the " lecturer " having hopped away
with it some time before. I fancy the poor piano
suffered. Some of us had a little bit of it
as a relic. It had played its last " Yankee
Doodle."

My next engagement was with Barnum, Bailey
and Hutchinson's show, and we opened in Madison
Square Gardens in New York. This was in 1880,
when for some reason or another, or perhaps no
reason at all, there came about a boom in elephants.
Perhaps it was due to the attraction of " Jumbo "
at the Regent's Park Zoo, an immense favourite —
in more senses than one — with the children and
believed to be the biggest tame elephant in the
world. Anyhow% everybody was going mad over
elephants, and we at Barnum and Bailey's believed
we had scored over any other show in Christendom
when it was discovered that one of our lady
elephants was about to become a mother. All the
necessary preparations were made, expectation

48

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

ran high, and at last the youngster came into the
world. It at once became a celebrity and a star,
for it was the only elephant known to be born
in bondage. Barnum and Bailey, you may be sure,
made the most of the treasure. The birth was
advertised in one way or another all over the world,
and we had doctors from every part of the States
and a few from Europe to see the marvellous little
creature. The mother of the baby elephant was
called Mother Hebe — and a dear kind mother she
was. It was a pretty sight if somewhat grotesque
to see her suckle the infant, which she did in quite
a human fashion and totally different from the
method adopted by any other animal.

Every afternoon at 4.30 I used to play with the
baby elephant. I was as punctual as clockwork —
a very important thing in the trainng of an animal's
affections — and I never missed a day. When the
baby was six months old I was nowhere in the
game. He was thoroughly master of me and used
to enjoy butting me all over the place. I do
believe the old mother liked to see her son romping
with me.

After the animals went into quarters for the
winter I did not see my playmate for fifteen years,
when the Barnum Show coming to Olympia in
London, I called and asked Mr. Bailey what had
become of the baby elephant. " You'll find him
the first elephant round the corner," said Mr.
Bailey. I went and spoke to him and he nearly
went off his head with joy, so much so that he
became really dangerous from excitement, and I had
to leave. Elephants rarely forget kindnesses, but a
fifteen years' memory was a tall order and familiar

49

FROM SA\VDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

as I was with the ways of animals I was quite taken
by surprise.

In the course of its wanderings Barnum and
Bailey's show found itself some time in 1881 at
Chester, Pennsylvania. One evening about five
o'clock when I was having tea at my hotel, Mr.
Bailey came in. Said he :

** Whimmy, I want you to go to Paris."

Thinking he meant Paris in New York State I
said : " All right. When ? "

" Well," he returned, " you can catch the mail
train to New York to-night and catch the steamer
Alaska for Liverpool."

'" Oh, then you mean the Paris in France."

*' Yes."

Upon this I went to my wife and told her. She
agreed and suggested that while I was in England
I might go and see the children, who were in Hull.
As for herself, she would be quite safe in America
as Mr. Bailey would see that she was looked after.

Then came a little mystery which made me fancy
I was an important diplomatic agent engaged on a
mission which might plunge the world into war.

*' Whimmy," said Mr. Bailey, when I was ready
to start, " I wish you to give me your word of honour
that you will not open this sealed envelope until
you pass the Goddess of Liberty.

The Goddess of Liberty, of course, is the enormous
figure which is so prominent an object to all steamers
coming to or going from New York.

I gave my promise, said good-bye to my wife,
and with my kit, a couple of shirts, socks, collars
and so on, I caught the train to New York and
boarded the Alaska.

50

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

I needn't say that I was all agog with curiosity
to know what my " sealed orders " contained, for
Mr. Bailey hadn't given me the slightest idea of
what my mission to Paris meant, and the minute
the Alaska passed the Goddess of Liberty I broke
open the envelope. These were the instructions I
found inside :

" Go to the Grand Hotel, Paris. There our
representative, Davis, is lying dangerously ill.
Do the best for him. Should he have gone before
you get there, get all his papers and see him put
away regardless of expense. After doing your
business there go to the Zoological Gardens and buy
" Jumbo." Don't give more than 5,000 dollars,
and return after you have finished your business ;
also bring the Liliputian Aztecs with you."

For some months previous the most important
topic discussed in London was the fate of '* Jumbo."
The big elephant was now twenty years of age and
though perfectly docile in his daily duty of giving
children rides in the gardens, and quite friendly
with and obedient to Scott, his keeper, had when
in confinement periods of irritability. There were
reasons for this, and among others was the constant
gorging of buns and various dainties of the same
character and the want of sufficient exercise. It
was known that the Fellows of the Royal Zoological
Society were seriously perturbed what to do with
the public's pet, and at last it was announced that
the dearly beloved " Jumbo " must either be sold
or shot !

Instantly a tremendous furore burst out. Ladies
and children swarmed to the Zoo and " Jumbo "
had the time of his life in the way of being pampered.

51

FROM SA^^T)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

One lady never missed a day in taking a packet
to the huge beast and dropping a few tears of sym-
pathy. But the fiat had gone forth. " Jumbo "
must be sold, for here was I, having taken on the
responsibilities of Mr. Davis, representing Barnum
and Bailey, ready to plank down the purchase
money.

When this fact was announced a squabble arose
among the Fellows. A certain section swore by
all the gods that " Jumbo " should not leave the
country, and applied to the Court of Chancery
for an injunction to restrain the Council from selling
him, on the ground that they had no power under
their charter. During the hearing of the application
on March 7th, 1882, before Mr. Justice Chitty,
it was stated by the Secretary of the Society that
Barnum's offer had been received on October 12th,
1881, and that it was resolved to accept this offer.
He considered they had delivered " Jumbo " to
Mr. Barnum when the £2,000 was paid. He then
told Barnum's agent that he was the owner of the
elephant, but that if he liked he would keep him
for a short time on deposit.

Mr. Bartlett, the Superintendent of the Gardens,
gave some interesting evidence. Numerous
elephants he had known had become dangerous and
had killed persons and had to be shot. " Jumbo "
had at times in the last two years shown signs of
" must." Last autumn he had smashed oak bars
eight inches square, lined with iron, by striking
them with his head. If the Society kept him, they
would have to build a special house for him as the
present one was not strong enough. The only
thing that could be done when he went " must "

52

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

would be to chain him down and put him on half
rations.

The upshot of the matter was that Mr. Justice
Chitty decided that when the secretary reported
on the 22nd February that the money had been
paid the elephant was sold and that the Council
had power to sell. In spite of this decision, lamenta-
tions went up, and one of " Jumbo's " indignant
friends tried to start a subscription to keep him
in the country.

Of course, the excitement and sentimentalism
over the exodus of the big beast was all to the good
from the showman's point of view. Mr. Bailey
knew what he was about and he cabled to me to
give a dinner to the Press at the Zoological Gardens
before taking away the pet of the British public.

This dinner took place on a Friday evening and
*' Jumbo " was to leave on the following day.
While we were enjoying ourselves at the dinner,
Scott, '* Jumbo's " keeper at the Zoo, called me out
and told me that it was impossible to ship " Jumbo "
that night as the elephant had positively refused
to enter the travelling car which had been specially
prepared for his conveyance to the docks.

I may say that this car was of peculiar construc-
tion. It was more like a tunnel than a car, being
open at both ends, which were to be closed when
" Jumbo " was inside. So many years have elapsed
and so many of those in the " know " have passed
away that there is no harm now in telling the story
of " Jumbo " as seen from the inside. The tunnel
arrangement was adopted with a view to taking
" Jumbo " in. It was thought that when he saw
the trees, grass, flowers and so on through the end

FROM SA^VDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

he would readily enter the tunnel under the impres-
sion that he was walking into the open air. It
is my belief that " Jumbo " was far too shrewd to
be " codded " — to use showman's slang — in this
manner.

Besides — and this is where the secret comes in —
Mr. Barnum, like Pharoah of old, had — so to speak
- — hardened his heart and would not let " Jumbo "
go. Why should he be in a hurry. The English
and American papers were paragraphing the obstin-
acy of " Jumbo " day after day, the difficulties
of removal were made as much of as possible.
Barnum was delighted with the fantastic notion
that forty millions in Great Britain were tearing
their hair in their anguish at having to part with
their beloved beast, while fifty millions in America
were going through the same operation lest at the
eleventh hour something might happen to prevent
them gloating over the possession of the precious
pachyderm. It was a showman's policy to keep up
the excitement for the sake of the advertisement,
and so while it was made out that superhuman
efforts were being made to induce *' Jumbo "
to set foot in the car, as a matter of fact this was
the last thing desired until there were signs of the
strain on the public mind giving way.

I needn't say that I put on an expression of
intense anxiety when I announced to the feasting
pressmen that I must deal with the difficulty at
once, and as my absence did not mean any cessation
of the festivities, I don't think they minded my
going very much. The result was that I hurried
off, took a hansom to the American Exchange,
and cabled to Mr. Bailey : *' Cannot get ' Jumbo '

64

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

away this week. Waiting instructions from you."
Mr. Bailey cabled in return, " Keep ' Jumbo ' back
until further orders." I did. I kept him for six
weeks. The Persian Monarch, which had been
chartered, sailed without him, and all this time
" Jumbo " obligingly refused to enter his tunnel-car.
When it was considered a suitable moment
'* Jumbo " was induced to take up his quarters
in the travelling box, which with its living freight
did not weigh much less than 12 tons. An inclined
plane had been cut in the ground to make the floor
of the box level with that of the cage, and all went
well until in turning a corner in a somewhat narrow
path a soft bit of gravel was reached, some stupid
person called out *' Whoa ! " and the team of six
powerful dray horses stopped in this awkward
place. Before they could go on again, the wheels
had sunk down to the axles. Here the box remained
until night. The horses had to be taken out while
powerful jacks were used to raise the conveyance,
which was accomplished a little before midnight,
" Jumbo " in the meantime having alternate fits
of irritation and calmness. A little after 1 a.m.
a fair start was made, and at length the road outside
the Gardens was reached, and without fm-ther
mishap the car was brought alongside the Assyrian
Monarch at Millwall Docks.

55

CHAPTER VI

" Jumbo " shipped. The Baroness Burdett-Coutts gives him
his last bun. Arrives safely at New York. A duty of £450
demanded. My awkward encounter with the Customs officer.
Fatal accident to " Jumbo." Something about the Aztecs.
Their curious history. I go in for theatrical management.
I start with pantomime at the Metropolitan Alcazar, Broadway.
Deverna's extraordinary rubber " properties." The topical
hits greatly relished. The foolish penal code. Marriages in
Barnum's captive balloon. My benefit and the misfortune
that happened. The gallery gives way and many people
injured. In five minutes I lose all my fortune.

At last the day arrived for the departure of the
biggest passenger that ever left the British shores.
Practically, as a passenger, he had the entire ship
to himself (barring a few emigrants), for the Assyrian
Monarch was a cargo ship and had been chartered
for the purpose. No monarch could have had
greater honours paid him. The steamer was dressed
with flags and the boy crews of the training ships
in the Thames manned the yards as he went by.
The Baroness Burdett-Coutts and a party of friends
bade him farewell on board the steamer and the
Baroness gave him his last bun. It was said that
messages recording the state of the illustrious

56

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

animal's health would be placed in india rubber
bags in lieu of bottles and dropped into the sea at
intervals, but whether this delicate attention was
paid him I am unable to say, as I did not travel in
the Assyrian Monarch, for having to reach New
York some days before he did I went from Liverpool.

" Jumbo " arrived at Jersey city on April 9th
and by night was lodged in Madison Square Gardens
little the worse for the voyage, save that he had
lost half a ton in weight owing to sea sickness. On
the other hand he had contracted a taste for
whisky, presumably administered for medicinal
reasons. How much constituted a dose I am unable
to say. The Customs authorities claimed £450
for duty, which the owners refused to pay on the
ground that " Jumbo " had been imported for
breeding purposes. The question was referred to
the Treasury and ultimately the claim was aban-
doned. Again was " Jumbo " specially privileged.
On the whole Barnum and Bailey made a splendid
bargain. What with buying him, booming him in
various ways and his transportation to America,
he cost £3,000. On the other hand we cleared this
sum in New York alone and during eighteen months
we took 1,500 dollars per day — equivalent to
£300.

That voyage of mine to America was marked
by a comical incident which forced me to pretend
to be something Nature had not fitted me for.
The night before I left London for Liverpool I
had a cable from Mr. Bailey instructing me to
bring over a prize dog as a pet for Mrs. Bailey,
she having no children. I brought the pug —
" Punch " was its name — I also purchased 24

57 E

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

pairs of tights, 24 pairs of theatrical boots and a
silver cornet for which I paid £16 at Chappell's
of Bond Street, the cornet being for Mr. Robinson,
who was the conductor of our band.

With all this paraphernalia I arrived at New
York, and in due course presented myself and
my belongings at the Customs. The officer passed
everything excepting the silver cornet, at which
he looked very doubtfully.

" What have you got there ? " was his question.

" Oh, that's an implement of my trade," said
I, readily enough.

" Yes ? And who are you ? "

This was a poser, but I thought I was equal
to it, so I explained that I was a musical clown
at Madison Square Gardens,

The officer smiled cordially.

" I'm real pleased to hear that," said he.
*' Come into the office and give us a few of your
latest English tunes."

He wasn't contented with this (to me) monstrous
proposal, but actually invited some of his brother
officials to form part of the audience ! What
my consternation was like I cannot describe.
I had never blown a cornet in my life ! How-
ever, I wasn't going to be done, and plucking up
my courage I followed him into the office, brought
out the cornet, put the mouthpiece on it, and
with all the assurance of a professional musician
asked the gentlemen what he would like to hear.

" Play one of your own compositions," said he.

I did. I composed it on the spot and made the
most terrible noise that ever issued from a
cornet.

58

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

The official evidently was not impressed.

" Where's the invoice for this ? " he remarked
drily.

I showed it to him — there was no help for it.

" Ah. That'll cost you so many dollars extra.
You'd better get out and do a bit of practice."

I never had such a take down and I felt I'd
made a fool of myself.

When I took the cornet to Mr. Robinson he
said, " What a beauty," but on my telling him
of my adventure and what the instrument cost,
he nearly fell into a fit.

" My dear Whimmy," said he laughing heartily,
" I could have got the thing cheaper in New
York."

" Jumbo's " lost half-ton was soon made up.
He began speedily to put on flesh again and despite
the fact that he had more exercise with the show
and less buns than at the Zoological Gardens,
he became fat and unwieldy and certainly lazy.
All this led to his undoing. Some eighteen months
after he became an American citizen he was being
removed from one town to another, and during
the journey was taken along the railway track
to avoid the crowds which were anxious to see
him free, gratis and for nothing. He was pro-
ceeding along a bend in the line when a big
locomotive engine was heard coming behind.
The driver did not see the big beast, and " Jumbo,"
in total ignorance of his danger, could not be
induced to quicken his pace. The attendants
did all they could to urge him on, but his indolence
had become too strong a habit. The locomotive
struck him violently on the side as he was leaving

59

FROM SA^\T)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

the metals, and he fell down the incline, where he
lay till his death, which occurred some few hours
after. Nothing could be done as he had received
severe internal injuries.

Passing from the very big to the very little
I might say a word or two about the Aztecs which
Barnum was so anxious to have to add to the
attractions of his show. They were an ugly
diminutive couple with dark olive skins, gleaming
eyes and big hook noses. I dare say some of my
older readers may remember them being quite
a rage in London and the provinces in the early
'sixties. They were brought from Mexico by one
Reaney, who represented them as being the last
of their race, and as also having royal blood in
their veins. This may have been so, but I have
a suspicion that the story was a showman's fake.

Royal or not, they proved a mine of wealth
to their exhibitors, though they hadn't the
slightest spark of interest in themselves personally.
They were hardly four feet high and exceedingly
slightly built. With their ringletted hair they
looked more like dolls or wax figures from a
costumier's window than human beings, and they
passed their time in smoking cigarettes and
quarrelling in some kind of guttural jargon which
no one but themselves understood. They were
a most unpleasant looking couple, yet the British
public clustered round them — the ladies especially
— anxious to shake them by the hand, though
their palms were generally moist and dirty and
very disagreeable to the touch.

When I was commissioned to take them to
America they had lost their celebrity and had

60

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

fallen very low indeed. After being exhibited
in a penny side booth during the last days of the
Surrey Gardens, where they were much more
interested in their own snarlings than in the
gaping visitors, they became the property of a
Mrs. Morris, who hired a shop in the New Cut
and turned it into a show, and there I found
them.

I may be wrong, but to my mind, speaking
as one who has passed a good part of his life among
shows and showmen, that the taste for freaks
and monstrosities once so marked a characteristic
of the British sightseer has disappeared. If so,
it is hardly to be regretted.

After I finished my season with the Barnum
and Bailey " Jumbo " season in America I had
saved a few thousand dollars, so I thought I
would go in for management in the theatrical
business. I decided to produce an English panto-
mime and made arrangements with Deverna, the
finest theatrical property artificer in America.
Deverna was marvellous in making, among other
achievements, properties of rubber, and he made
two tramway horses — all of rubber, so that they
could be stretched right across the stage and if you
let them go they would return to their proper
places. These two cost me a lot of money, but
they were worth it. You could knock them off
their feet and they would right themselves in the
most startling fashion. I rented the Metropolitan
Alcazar Theatre, Broadway, New York, from a
Mr. Wilson for three months. I engaged a first-
class company and gave them three weeks'
rehearsal and set to work to produce the panto-

61

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

mime, the title of which was " The Three
Wishes."

We opened on December 19th, to a big house.
The Enghsh harlequinade was a novelty to an
American audience and I was curious to see how
it would go down. Everybody, I suppose, has
his own idea of fun, and where one person sees
humour another sees nothing to laugh at, so I
had to take my chance. The result, however,
was a success. The New York Herald was good
enough to say of my efforts that they '* provoked
considerable laughter." It further observed that
*' Deverna's splendid pantomime and ballet, ' Les
Amours de Venus ' by M. Baptistan, were well
received. Many of the local scenes were recognised,
and the hits at the penal code and the peculiarities
of horse car travel drew forth sympathetic applause
and hearty laughter."

I may say in explanation of the " hits " at the
penal code that the latter was an extraordinary
enactment, which could only have been passed
when the legislative authorities were in a temporary
condition of imbecility. It laid down all kinds
of rules and regulations as to what was proper
and improper to do on Sunday, and a more fussy
and grandmotherly scheme for interfering with
individual liberty was never devised. As the
notoriously prudish Comstock was the person
appointed to carry out the obnoxious law, it is
pretty certain he took a keen delight in pouncing
upon offenders and exacting the fine laid down
for a breach of the code.

The Americans are certainly an extraordinary
people, with their constant craving for excite-

62

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

ment, for bigness in everything, for the almighty
dollar, and for their extreme sentimentalism.
They are perpetually involving themselves in
contradictions. At the very moment when some
were howling about Sabbatarian morality, others
were crazy over cock fighting ! Matches were
being got up and fought in hosts of places, not
secretly but openly, and reports of the combats
were published in the papers without any apology.
The incongruity did not occur to me at the time,
but it did afterwards, when I myself was interested
in the doings of game cocks, as will be told in the
proper place.

So long as you can tickle the curiosity and
vanity of the Americans and make them fancy
you're going to show or give them something
the rest of the world has never seen or possessed,
you're on the right lines as a showman. Barnum,
the prince of the profession, discovered this as
early as 1842 when he exhibited General Tom
Thumb, and he was always bringing out some-
thing fresh and '* unique " to the very end of his
long career.

He was extraordinarily fertile in finding out
new ways of pleasing the American public and
incidentally making money. One of his most
original notions he worked out while I was with
him. He had a captive balloon for flights, in which,
of course, he made a charge. How he came to
extend this privilege into an extra special one
I am unable to say, but New York was one day
startled by an announcement that marriages were
being " solemnised " — I suppose this is the proper
word — daily in the captive balloon !

63

fro:m sa\m3ust to Windsor castle

And this turned cut to be the case. Engaged
couples were crazy to be married up in a balloon
and Barnum was quite ready to oblige them.
The balloon carried a clergyman at every trip
and united the candidates in the free and easy
fashion which the American marriage law approves.
Of course, he had his fee and so did Barnum, who
charged for the flight a sum which, though high,
was eagerly paid by the bridegroom.

What there was so attractive in this absurdity
I am unable to say, unless it enabled the couples
so wedded to crow over those who had to be
contented with a commonplace church or
chapel.

To return to the Alcazar pantomime. I of
course was clown, and I had splendid support
from Charles Christie, pantaloon ; J. F. Raymond,
harlequin ; Thomas Watson, sprite ; and Eva
French, columbine. I needn't say there was any
number of pretty girls in the ballet.

The run continued through the Christmas
holidays to January 3rd, which night I set apart
for my benefit. By the irony of fate that night
proved to be most disastrous in my career — I
lost a fortune in less than five minutes. A
tremendous crowd had assembled outside the
theatre, and I told my manager to open the doors.
The house was crowded to suffocation and just
when we were going to begin there was a stampede
from the top gallery. It had dropped two feet with
the weight of the people. Women and children
were shouting and crying — some with arms and
legs broken — but, thank God, there were no lives
lost.

64

The Royal Windsor Castle Programme

ONTARIO

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

There was no performance that night, and
subsequently the authorities condemned the
theatre. The accident had a sequel which was
of grave consequence to me. The people who
had been injured brought actions against me and
they got absolutely everything I had, to the last
dollar I had saved for five years, and I was left
penniless. There was only one thing to do — return
to England — so I borrowed 500 dollars from Mr.
Bailey and took boat for Liverpool.

65

CHAPTER VII

I join Hengler's Circus at Liverpool. Mr. Charles Hengler's
peculiarities. A black or red nose ? An unlucky ride in the
early morning after a late night. I break my ankle. Incapaci-
tated for two years. I go with Hengler's to Dublin. My
popularity. A favourite song. I experiment with performing
cats. They have stage fright. A Dublin reporter taken aback.
" Billy Gladstone." The reporter's revenge. My awkward
experience on the boat to Holyhead. A " Dick Turpin "
impromptu ride to York.

When I arrived at Liverpool, Hengler's Circus
chanced to be there, and as Mr. Hengler and my-
self were old friends I called upon him and was
engaged. Some years before at Hull I had made
Mr. Hengler's acquaintance and had got to know
his peculiarities. I found him a good straight
man, somewhat severe — would have his business
done to his liking — and that was his success through
life. Everything had to be the essence of cleanli-
ness. I have seen him go round the stables with
his white handkerchief in his hand smoothing
down the horses' backs to see if they were clean.
He was a terror with the grooms — the least dirty
spot on a horse — the groom had to go !

G6

FROM SAWT)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Well, on my opening night, I had on a beautiful
satin dress. My nose was black and my face was
white. I went into the arena and knocked lumps
off myself — because I thought the first impression
was everything — but when I came out I was
exhausted — fell down — fighting for breath. Any-
how, I had made a huge success, and when ^fr.
Charles Hengler came round I thought he was
going to compliment me. Oh dear no. Instead
of compliments he said sternly :

" You know, sir, your nose looks dirty — and
it frightens the children. Don't put it on again,
sir ! "

That was all I got from him for nearly killing
myself. Well — I was broken hearted. " Shall
I leave now," I wondered, "" or stop the week " ?

The next night came : he was sitting in his
box, and I went in the arena — black nose and all —
to let him know I didn't care. I came out after
doing my business and he came to me and said
only these words : " You've got it on again,
sir."

I didn't reply to him, but I went to his manager,
Mr. Wm. Powell, and told him that I was leaving
on Saturday !

" Don't you be a fool," was Mr. Powell's re-
joinder. '* What Mr. Hengler has told you is for
your benefit. Instead of putting black on your
nose try a bit of red."

So I did, and I must confess it was a tremendous
improvement when I next went on. When I
came off Mr. Hengler called me out and com-
plimented me on the improvement ; and I stopped
fourteen years on and off with him ! I was so

67

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

good that it cost him £1,000 in London to advertise
me. I became very great friends with all in the
circus from Mr. Hengler downwards, and especially
with Mr. Wm. Powell, his manager and son-in-law.

jMeeting with Mr. Hengler in Liverpool when I
was so hard up I considered was a bit of luck, but
I had not reckoned for the unexpected. It so
happened that Marie Roze w^as singing in the
city, and she invited Mr. Albert Hengler and myself
to a grand supper at the Adelphi Hotel. We had
an exceedingly jolly time and the small hours came
upon us before we had finished. Not feeling too
brisk and having the prospect of a matinee before
us, we thought it would not be a bad idea to have
a gallop in the country to buck us up for the show.
Accordingly we went to the circus stables and got
the groom to saddle a couple of horses. Now
circus horses are shod like race horses, their shoes
are quite flat, and this was the cause of the stroke
of ill luck which suddenly descended upon me.

All went well until we had gone two miles or so
on the Derby Road, when it came on a drizzle of
fine rain. Shortly after, we saw a herd of cows
coming out of a field and at the same time a tram-
car approached us up the hill. To avoid both
cows and car I was obliged to take the wrong side
of the road. The fates conspired against me with
malignant unanimity. The drizzle chose to turn
itself into a heavy shower — one of the outside
passengers was moved to open his umbrella. If
he'd only done so two minutes sooner or two
minutes later all would have been well, but no —
he must needs put up the thing with a jerk at the
very instant I was riding past the car. My horse

68

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

shied at it, his flat shoes had no hold on the wet,
greasy tram Hnes, and down he went and his rider
with him. Result — a broken ankle for me.

A cab was fetched, I was taken home and the
doctor came and set my leg. I was in bed for five
months and it was two years before I appeared in
the ring again. But Mr. Charles Hengler was ever
so good to me, so I never wanted for anything. I
remember the doctor coming one morning and
saying I could have a small glass of Guinness'
stout, half of a potato and the middle part of a
chop. But instead of a small glass of stout I had
two bottles and two potatoes — and I thought the
doctor would not know what I had taken. Next
morning he came and felt my pulse and looked at me,
and wanted to know what I had been doing. My
wife told him that I had had two bottles of stout
and more than two potatoes. He said to me,
" Well, young man, you have only put yourself
back one month," and this turned out to be
true.

When I was in active work again I went about
with Hengler' s to various places and eventually
found myself in Dublin. I connect Dublin with
very important stage business which had much to do
with my subsequent career. It was in Dublin that
I took up seriously the training of animals and
especially of my celebrated donkeys, of which I
shall have much to say a little later on. But at
first I was engaged in ordinary clowning. I have
no hesitation in saying that the Dublin audiences
are the best and most appreciative I've ever played
to, and as for the hospitality of the Dublin people,
there's no end to it.

69

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

I made a very tremendous success with this song :

In Dublin's sweet city,

Where the girls are so pretty,

That's where I met my sweet Mollie Malone.

She wheeled a wheelbarrow

Through streets wide and narrow,

Crying cockles and mussels,

Alive, alive 0 — Ahve, alive O,

Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive — O.

Now she died with the fever

And nothing could save her,

And that was the end of sweet Mollie Malone.

And her ghost wheels her barrow,

Through streets wide and narrow,

Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive — O,

Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive — O !

They used to call me their Dublin pet. Our
performances were given in Mr. Hengler's place
in the Rotunda, a very fine theatre. Mr. Hengler
came to me one day and I could see by his expression
that some project was simmering in his mind.

" Whimmy," said he, " I saw something in Paris
that would suit you."

" What was that ? " I asked.

He replied that he saw a man with some perform-
ing cats and that he made them do some very clever
things.

" Now why shouldn't you do something of that
kind ? " he went on.

*' Well, if it'll please you, Mr. Hengler," was
my answer, " I'll get some cats and train them."

Accordingly I secured four cats — never mind
how I got them — real Irish cats they were, and I
gave a man eighteen shillings per week for thirteen
weeks only to look after them. I had four wooden

70

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

boxes made, painted red outside and whitewashed
inside. I used to get up at six o'clock in the morning
to go down to the circus before anybody was about,
to train my pupils. I used to take boiled milk
and boiled liver, and had a couple of hours every
day, with the exception of Sunday, and in this
fashion their education went on for thirteen weeks.

Of course it needed any amount of patience
on my part, for I had to make them do the same
things over and over again until it became simply
a habit. This is the secret of training animals —
habit. Well, I got these cats to perfection — they
used to jump through wire hoops, walk the tight
rope with a little bird in their mouths to prove
that you could train a cat to bring a bird to one
without harming it, and other feats.

My benefit came, and of course I had huge posters
all over the city of Dublin : " The greatest novelty
in the world : four wonderful performing cats will
appear at my benefit. Whimsical Walker —
Clown ! "

The house was packed to suffocation and I did
about a dozen acts before introducing the star
turn. Sedately the cats followed me in rotation
into the ring and one of the grooms put four little
stools down for them to sit on. I turned round to
pick up a hoop and at that moment some fool in
the gallery made a noise with his mouth. The cats
bolted at the sound and I have never seen them
from that day to this !

I expected a great row as it seemed to me the
audience would look upon me as a fraud and consider
themselves sold, but they took the thing as a joke,
and I can only think that they understood the

71

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

reason and held me innocent of any attempt to
deceive them. All the same, every time I went to
Dublin I was chaffed unmercifully about the cats.
I must admit that my first experience with perform-
ing animals was not encouraging, but the time came
when my patience was rewarded, though there
was always the risk of something happening which
w^as not in the programme.

I had a good many queer adventures in Dublin
and not the least funny was an episode in which
a reporter of the Freeman's Journal figured.
Some of us used to go to the Hummums Hotel
Turkish Baths about four times a week — just
to have a rest and get ready for business at night.
In the cooling room of these baths was a huge
cold water bath — say about five feet deep — with
four couches round it. Mr. William Powell —
Hengler's manager — was on one couch sleeping,
I was next to him on another one, and dear Father
O'Brien — a very stout priest — on a third.

We were all resting quietly when Kelly, the
reporter in question, had the assurance to waken
Mr. Powell and ask him for two passes for the
circus. Of course Mr. Powell was annoyed at
being awakened, and under his breath said,
" Whimmy, fake him in the plunge."

Tumbling to the idea, I said, " Kelly, have you
seen my new trick that I am going to do for
my benefit ? Just stand there on that rubber mat."

This was on the edge of the plunge. I did a
somersault — slipped — my head came in contact with
his stomach — and, of course, he fell into the plunge.
Well, we got him out and when he stood on the
mat Father O'Brien laughed so much that we had

72

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

to rush out. and get him a drop of brandy or I
am sure he would have choked. He said it was the
funniest thing he had ever seen in his Ufe.

Of course Mr. Kelly's clothes were saturated,
so we took them off and gave them to the attendant
to put into the hot room until they were dry.
When they came back the trousers were about
three inches too short and Kelly's face was three
inches or so too long. We made out, of course,
that it was an accident, but he never asked for
any more passes !

Another incident I fear was the result of too
much hospitality on the part of my Irish friends.
A short time after the Turkish bath escapade,
one of the company was taken ill with brain fever
and removed to the hospital, where he died. He
was a Russian by birth named Becker. He was a
Catholic and I promised him that I would look
after him at his funeral. He was to have been
buried on a Saturday morning, and it so happened
that I had accepted an invitation to a birthday
party the night before. I had a jollification and
I'm afraid I put away a lot of Chartreuse.

About 5 o'clock in the morning I told my friends
that I must really go, but they would not hear of
it. I insisted, however, and going out called a
jarvey to take me home to Meryon Square, not
very far from where I engaged the car. In the
meantime my friends had taken off my boots
for a lark, thinking that I would then stop, but
this made no difference and I went away in my
socks.

I asked the jarvey when he had got about 100
yards what I owed him, and he said, " Eight bob,

73 F

FROM SA\^T)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

sir." I replied, " What ! I'll give you five
shillings." He pulled up and called a policeman,
sapng that I would not pay his fare — eight
shillings. I alighted, thinking I would have a
bit of fun (this was about 5.30 on a summer's
morning in August) and I started having a run
for my money round the car, the policeman and
jarvey after me. Of course I was without boots.

I was round the car — underneath the horse —
about three times — till the bobby thought he
would stop me, so he waited at the other side of
the horse. I bobbed under the horse and as I
bent down my head came in contact with his
stomach, and he caught his heels against the kerb
and down he went. He was soon on his feet,
collared me with the assistance of the jarvey, and
ran me into a little tiny one-room police station.
No one was about, being early in the morning,
so there were no witnesses.

I was taken before a row of policemen, and
the question was asked, " What the charge was."
" Not paying the jarvey 's fare and insulting the
Dublin constabulary." The officer asked me my
name, and I answered " Billy Gladstone." Mr.
Gladstone was working very hard for Home Rule
at this time. I needn't say I did not look much
like the great statesman, especially as I had no
boots on. The officer got up from his table, and
with the aid of the other officer took me by the
back of the collar and a certain part of the top
of my trousers and threw me into a little
room.

" I'll give you ' Billy Gladstone,' " he remarked,
and I'm bound to admit he did.

74

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

I must have been in the cell two hours and then
another constabulary man entered.

" Would you like a cup of tea," he asked in a
friendly way, and I had no hesitation in saying
yes.

He brought me one, so I said : " Will you let
me out," thinking that I had kept the joke up
long enough.

The policeman looked at me.

" Ain't you Whimsical Walker — the clown ? "
he asked.

I said, " Yes."

" Then why did you put your name on the
sheet as ' Billy Gladstone ' ? "

" That was only fun. I'm very sorry ! "

I then told the policeman what I had to do
that very morning, and how I had promised I
would see poor Becker buried. After a lot of
persuasion, the policeman said he would let me
out if I promised to be at the Four Courts at
12 o'clock, and of course I promised.

The morning was now getting on, and I asked
the policeman to lend me a pair of his boots —
which he did — and a pretty picture I looked with
the policeman's boots on, about a dozen sizes
too big for me, and in evening dress !

However, I went to the hospital and took the
corpse to Glasnevin Cemetery, and buried my
poor comrade. It was a solemn affair, yet there
was hardly anyone except myself there to see
the last of the poor Russian. So having kept my
word I went down to the Four Courts and stopped
there until my case came off.

75

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Presently, a voice holloaed out, " William
Gladstone ! "

Of course I knew that was me. The court was
crowded to suffocation. When I made my appear-
ance in the dock — as " William Gladstone " —
there was a scream and a titter, and the magistrate
threatened to clear the court.

" Do clear the court, and I'll go with them,"
I put in.

That did it, and somebody shouted : " Why
that's Whimmy Walker — hooray ! Another
hoax ! "

The end of the business was that I had to pay
eight shillings to the jarvey, £l for insulting the
constabulary, and two shillings and sixpence fine.

I left the court and I met the very Mr. Kelly
with whom I had the bath encounter, and this
is where he got his own back.

Said he :

" You've done a nice thing ; it will be in every
London paper that you've been locked up for
being drunk and disorderly and fighting the
constabulary."

" The deuce it will ! " I exclaimed. " Can't
you stop it ? "

" Come to my office," he replied, " and I'll get
the wires at work."

I followed him on to a car to his office and I
gave him a cheque for £20 for suppressing the
news, and I guess he bought himself a new suit
of clothes with the money.

I'm inclined to believe that there's something
in the air of Ireland and in the spirit (I'm not
referring to whisky) of the Irish people which

76

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

stimulates one to fun and frolic. An Irishman,
no matter how old he grows, is said to be always
a " b-hoy." However this may be, I found myself
the subject of a joke and in an awkward predica-
ment during the journey from Dublin to Holyhead
en route for Hull.

On board the boat was a poor old Irish woman
with a dear little baby about three months old in
her arms. Just as we got outside the harbour
everyone was very sick as the sea was very rough.
As for myself, being a good sailor, it did not affect
me. But this poor old woman was so awfully
bad that she thrust the baby into my arms with
a pitiful, " Glory be to God, hold it for a while."

Without exaggeration I can say I had that
baby squalling in my arms for four hours. No-
body would take it from me — even the sailors
would not. It was considered great fun to make
Whimmy keep the baby until our arrival at Holy-
head. During the voyage I couldn't find the
mother of the baby anywhere, and if I tried to
put the baby on to anybody else they said it was
a father's duty to look after his own child. The
joke was kept up till we got into Holyhead Harbour,
when as we got in, the mother came up, blessed
me, and took the child, and everybody sang *' For
he's a jolly good father." What I said to the old
Irish woman — well, it was plain English, if not
plain Irish.

We had to stop at Holyhead till about 2 o'clock
in the morning for Mr. Hengler's special train.
In the meantime we went round and had sundry
drinks till it occurred to us that we'd better get
back to the station.

77

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

On our way, we met a man leading a beautiful
black horse — it had just came off the boat — and
being full of devilment nothing would do but we
must play " Dick Turpin's Ride to York" on this
black horse. The man with the horse thought
he had met a lot of lunatics, but he was helpless
and we did as we hked. One of our party jumped
on the beautiful black horse, galloped down the
street, when the horse stopped suddenly and Dick
Turpin went over his head and fell into — well,
it was not a strawberry bed ! The police collared
the lot of us — including the horse, but they let
us off with a caution when they found out who we
were.

78

CHAPTER VIII

The doings of my donkeys " Tom " and " Jerry." How I
educated them. The training of animals. A Hull doctor
hoaxed. My misadventure on the opening night at Hull.
How " Tom " was taught to sing. " Jerry " suddenly drops
dead at Glasgow. " Tom's " great cleverness. How he scared
the ballet girls at the Leicester Square Empire. " Tom "
undergoes a singular surgical operation at Bordeaux. How I
said " something nice " to Mr. Gladstone at Covent Garden
Theatre. I am " commanded " to perform before Queen
Victoria at Windsor Castle. " Tom's " misbehaviour on this
occasion. Her Majesty's appreciation of the performance.

I PROPOSE to devote this chapter mainly to the
doings of my donkeys. I can't observe chrono-
logical order, but I imagine that so far as myself
and my performing pets are concerned chronology
doesn't matter to anybody. So I put down my
recollections just as they come into my head.

As I have already said, it was during my first
visit to Ireland that the idea of performing donkeys
came into my mind. I can't say what originated
it unless it was that I had noticed the Irish donkeys
were more intelligent than those of other countries.
I decided, however, that they were more reliable
than Irish cats and certainly funnier, and after
all this was the main point. I didn't know any

79

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

donkeys, so I advertised for two, my advertise-
ment running, " Wanted : two donkeys. No 4,
Lower Dominick Street."

I was taken aback when the servant entered
my room looking rather alarmed.

** If you please, sir, a lot of donkeys have come."
And they had come — in crowds. I was over-
whelmed with donkeys. As the day wore on
more donkeys arrived. I do believe all the donkeys
in and out of Dublin were poured upon me. Any-
how, I selected two — oddly enough they were
the first two I saw — and bought them for 15/-
Wh ether it was judgment or good luck which
made me choose them I can't say, but they turned
out to be the cleverest animals I had ever had
anything to do with. I named them " Tom "
and " Jerry," and under these names they became
celebrated all over Great Britain and Ireland
and even on the continent.

I devoted fourteen months to the training of
" Tom " and '' Jerry." As in the case of cats,
I got them into the habit of performing the tricks
I wanted and treated them with uniform kindness,
and they would follow me about like dogs. It
is quite a mistake to suppose that animals can be
taught anything by brutality. The great thing
is to get them entirely used to you, and as a lesson
meant something in the way of a reward they
became quite eager for the visits of their master. I
used to feed my donkeys myself, clean them
myself, and every day at the same time I, so to
speak, put them through their paces.

That the training of animals is chiefly the getting

80

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

them to do things in a certain way until the habit
is fixed upon them is in my opinion the secret.
I remember a curious instance of this in the case
of a bullfinch belonging to a friend of mine. The
bird for some reason best known to itself would
never use the bath placed in its cage for the pur-
pose, but persisted in sprinkling itself with water
from its drinking trough. This went on for some
time, to the annoyance of its owner, and at last
the expedient was tried of emptying the drinking
trough. It was confidently expected that deprived
of this substitute for a bath it would bathe itself
in the proper receptacle. Not at all. The bull-
finch put its head through the wires and went
through its ablutions in pantomime, though not
a drop of water entered its beak ! What was the
thought — if any — in the bird's mind it would be
impossible to say, but it was evidently satisfied
with going through the necessary movements in
accordance with the habit it had got into.

Whether my theory of training is right or wrong,
I succeeded with " Tom " and Jerry," and by
the time the circus had to leave Ireland for its
engagements elsewhere they were pretty well
proficient, but became more so subsequently.

When we reached Hull at the end of our journey
from Ireland thousands assembled to give us a
reception, and a hearty one it was. Somehow
the fame of Hengler's and possibly that of " Tom "
and " Jerry " had preceded us, and I was invited
to lunch by Mr. Cuthbert, manager of the Theatre
Royal. The hotel was next the theatre and the
party was a very jolly one.

Just as we were coming away who should pass

81

ONTABiO

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

the door but a groom with one of my donkeys.
The sight at once suggested larks, especially as
we were all in the proper mind for a spree. In a
trice the donkey was dragged into the hotel and
bunked upstairs into one of the bedrooms. Then
we borrowed an old woman's nightcap from one
of the chambermaids, stuffed it on the donkey
and put him to bed.

The next step was to ring up a doctor and
'phone a message " Come at once — visitor in bed-
room No. 7 taken dangerously ill." The doctor
came and of course he was at first intensely dis-
gusted at being sold, but he soon got over his
anger. As for the visitors and the servants, they
were screaming with laughter, and I never heard
such shouts and yells. Old Mr. Daunton, the
proprietor, was, however, not among those who
were pleased, and I don't think he ever quite
forgave me. Of course the whole thing was very
silly, but I don't think we'd quite shaken off the
effects of " ould Ireland " — besides, the luncheon was
very good. Whatever may be said of it, the hoax
served one excellent purpose — it acted as a
splendid advertisement — and the Yorkshire papers
were full of it.

On that night — the opening night — I made
my appearance. Being a native of Hull and an
immense favourite, the audience — as was said
of a reception given to a very great actor —
simply " rose at me." The warmth of their applause
coupled with memories of the lunch earlier in the
day, assisted possibly by later reminders of the
same sort, rather distorted my equanimity —
correctly speaking I should say equilibrium. As

82

FROM SA\\T)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

I made my entrance into the arena I caught
my foot in the carpet and down I went sprawHng
on my face. The people thought it was all in my
" business " and shouted with delight. As a
matter of fact, when I picked myself up I saw not
one horse going round and round, but thousands.
It was the climax of that day's festivities.

" Where's the ring door ? " I gasped feebly to
one of the grooms and groped my way out.

On the next day I was carpeted before Mr.
Hengler, the severe. He eyed me more, however,
in sorrow than in anger.

" What was the matter with you last night ? "
he enquired in slow accents.

I explained I was suffering from a bad bilious
attack !

" H'm. Don't let it occur again."

No more I did — at all events not in Hull. I
knew well enough that Mr. Hengler had his eye
on me.

But let us return to our donkeys.

It was at NorAvich where I first got them to
sing. Hengler's Circus was then performing at
the Agricultural Hall, and I always had an hour
a day to practise them and let them have a bit of
exercise in the arena. They used to run about
playing with each other like children, and one
day I bought them a couple of toy bag-pipes.
I was blowing these bag-pipes, making a fearful
noise, when " Tom " pricked up his ears and
began to bray with all his might.

Mr. Hengler hearing the music (?) said to me,
*' If you can only make him do that before the
audience your fortune will be made."

83

FROM SA^^T)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

"Very well," I said, "then dashed if I don't
try it to-night."

I did try and he brayed until one might think
he wanted to burst himself. Of course I thought
my fortune was made, so I tried it two nights
longer. He still went on. His vocal powers were
the talk of the city ; everybody was coming to see
this singing donkey " by command."

On the fourth night I tried him again — he
would not take the least bit of notice of me.

" You're tired of the bag-pipes," I thought,
" I'll try you with a trombone."

The trombone satisfied him for four nights,
then his soul pined for something else and I
couldn't get any braying out of him. A violin
stimulated him for about a week, and then he
dropped singing altogether.

I was in despair till Mr. Amzieu, Mr. Hengler's
horse trainer, said one day, " Why don't you give
him a bit of sugar or a bit of carrot every time he
brays ? "

I took the hint, had a bed made in his stall,
and I slept over his bed in the stable for six weeks,
and every time he brayed I gave him a bit of
sugar. In fact, I stopped so long with him that
I believe I was nearly turned into a donkey. For
years after that he never missed braying when I
wanted to show him off.

At Glasgow, where we opened in the new
building at the bottom of Wellington Street,
the donkeys were a great success, but catastrophe
was impending. I used to let loose my donkeys
in the arena for exercise and on one occasion I
ordered my groom to take out " Tom," who was

84

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

the singing donkey, and in addition to his vocal
abihties was also possessed at times of fits of
viciousness, but was the cleverer of the two ; and
I had charge of " Jerry."

What happened was this : I had no sooner
taken hold of " Jerry's " bit than he dropped
down — dead ! My first impression was that he
had been poisoned, so sudden was the whole
thing. I sent for the veterinary surgeon, but of
course he was of no use. Then came the post-
mortem and it was decided that he had died not
from poison, but from over-feeding. He had had
an apoplectic fit.

There was a wonderful difference in my two
donkeys. " Jerry " was never tired of stuffing
himself and was certainly the fattest donkey I
ever saw. " Tom," on the other hand, no matter
what he ate, and he had plenty of corn and hay,
persisted in remaining lean. He was of an in-
tensely restless disposition and was what is called
a " weaver," that is, he would never keep still
in his stable. The contrast between the fat and
the lean donkey was very effective in the ring,
and it never occurred to me to diet " Jerry."
His fatness made up for his lack of cleverness and
perhaps was the cause of it. Poor " Tom " years
after eventually came to a sad end. He got kicked
to death by one of Mr. Adney Payne's horses at
the " Paragon " in the Mile End Road. It was
a terrible loss to me. I would not have taken
£1,000 for him.

During his memorable career " Tom " did good
suit and service for me, and besides being the
hero of many an episode, rehearsed and un-

85

FROM SA\^T3UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

rehearsed, he put a good deal of money in my
pocket. I was getting a very big salary for him
when Sir Augustus Harris was chairman of the
" Empire " in Leicester Square ; and on one
occasion when " Tom " at the request of Sir
Augustus was performing at a rehearsal, Madame
Katey Lanner, the well-known ballet mistress,
was sitting on the prompt side of the stage watching
his antics. Without any warning one of his vicious
brain storms set in, and he chose to take a violen*
dislike to Madame Lanner, for which I'm quite
sure there wasn't the slightest cause, and he
virtually ran amok.

He put his ears back — made for poor inoffensive
Madame Lanner, who promptly fell from her
chair — then turned his attentions to the ballet
girls and charged them furiously. It was a pan-
demonium for about ten minutes, the frightened
girls tumbling over chairs, screaming and rushing
for shelter into their dressing rooms.

I don't think he would have hurt a single hair
of their heads, but it was of no use assuring them
that it was " only ' Tom's ' idea of fun " — they
would have disbelieved me quite as much had
I told them he was jealous of their superior
attractions — the ballet was upset and there was
no more dancing on the stage after that when
" Tom " was going through his performance.

I had some queer doings with " Tom " when
I had a special engagement at Madrid, but just
now I will only mention one as I shall have to
return to my Spanish adventures when I deal
with performing birds. We returned from Spain
via Bordeaux, and while there the donkey was

86

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

taken ill. I first noticed that he was not quite
himself while performing — he had become groggy
about the legs. I decided to send for a veterinary
surgeon and I got one, thanks to Pedro Sterling,
the interpreter who accompanied the show. The
surgeon came, examined the donkey and pro-
nounced him to be too fat. An operation was
necessary at once, he declared. No sooner said
than done. Plunging a lance into Tom's neck he
took therefrom nearly three quarts of blood.
Then pulling a hair from Tom's tail he threaded
a needle with it and proceeded to sew up the
wound ! That same night the donkey went through
his performance as well as ever. The operation
struck me as one of the most singular I had ever
seen performed on an animal.

I jump now from Bordeaux to Covent Garden
Theatre, under Hengler's management. The box
office keeper in those days was a Mr. Hall, a
staunch and enthusiastic Liberal. One day he
came to me full of importance and quite excited.

" Whimmy," he said, " my dear old friend,
Mr. Gladstone, and Mrs. Gladstone and their
daughter are coming to the show this afternoon.
Do try to say something nice to them."

I wasn't quite sure what Hall meant by " some-
thing nice," but I presumed he meant something
funny, so I set my wits to work.

What on earth was I to say to Mr. Gladstone
that he would consider " nice " ? I could think
out nothing, so I resolved to leave it to the in-
spiration of the moment, as I had had to do scores
of times before.

The donkey of course was the great attraction,

87

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

and he behaved beautifully. Just before " Tom "
sang his solo I had a happy thought for the
" something nice."

I stepped to the footlights and with a glance
at the royal box where sat Mr. Gladstone, I said
in my gravest manner,

" Ladies and gentlemen, you will find the beauti-
ful melody ' Tom ' is about to oblige you with
on the back of the programme."

The people turned over their programmes and
quite a flutter of paper went through the house,
and Mr. Gladstone stared at his with a face as
blank as the back of the programme.

This was where the " cod " came in. There
was nothing to be seen !

Then the audience tumbled to the " sell," and
laughed and clapped, and so did Mr. Gladstone.
His fine face broke into a smile and I really think
the " something nice " pleased him.

But " Tom's " great triumph — and mine also,
I hope I may say — came on a certain day at
Hengler's Circus when it was in Argyle Street.
Mr. Hengler came to me with a sort of mystery in
his manner and said, " Sir Henry Ponsonby would
like to speak to you."

I hardly knew who Sir Henry Ponsonby was,
and after I was introduced to him he almost took
my breath away by informing me that I was
commanded by Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen
Victoria to appear before her at Windsor Castle
with my wonderful donkey ! I don't remember
what I stammered out, but I know that his reply
was that he would give me one month to prepare
for the occasion. Of course I thanked him and

88

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

for some time after that interview you couldn't
touch me or come near me within a hundred feet.
I was the greatest man on earth, I thought !

I got new harness, rugs, new blue serge suit
for myself — everything new for the donkey —
and on the 25th February, 1886, my Royal day,
I appeared before Her Majesty. I arrived at
Windsor from Paddington early in the morning,
and at once went to look at the riding school
where the performance was to take place, to
make sure that everything was right for my
donkey. I found that the floor was covered
with tan, and over that a layer of sawdust. I
had no objection to this, never thinking that
the tan would nearly lead to my undoing. But
had I known I could have done nothing.

Three o'clock was my time to appear before
Her Majesty, and punctually at the hour she
entered the royal box. It was a cold day and
a nice fire was burning in the box. Besides the
Queen there were three hundred of the household
forming the audience.

I made my appearance. " Tom " worked
splendidly and in due time his " turn " came,
where I placed him in a chair in which he sat
with a music stand and a sheet of music before
him. The trick was for him to turn the music
over with his nose and sing, "Do not forget me."
He was very well behaved previous to this, but
directly he sat down he became conscious of the
peculiar odour of the tan and somehow or other
he liked it. He got out of the chair and began
smelling the tan floor, and then giving vent to
loud sniffs of satisfaction and looking up at me.

89 G

FROM SA\AT)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Maybe you have seen donkeys make faces, and the
faces " Tom " made at me were something grotesque
in the extreme. I did my best to pacify him and
explain his conduct by such soothing remarks as,
" Dear, dear soul — you must have lost something
in the tan. Come, dear, I'll find it for you if you'll
come and sing."

At last I got him back into the chair and went
on :

" Now, darling brother, sing " Do not forget
me," and he had just begun to make a little tiny
noise when he thought he would have another
smell. That did it !

It was very cold — but the perspiration was pour-
ing off me with excitement. He knew very well he
was taking advantage of me, because I dared not
touch him with a whip. However, I had a little,
tiny hand whip and showing him this I said in
severe tones, " Come on, now." But he was as
silent as an owl excepting for his sniffs, and I had to
gag for all I was worth to account for his conduct.
The things that came into my mind ! I said
he had lost a fourpenny piece, that one of his
relatives were buried, and much more nonsense.
At last, after a lot of persuasion, he brayed, and the
situation to my delight was saved.

As it happened, this bit of unexpected business
evidently entertained the Royal party, and at the
end of the show her Majesty expressed a wish
to see the donkey outside. There are three steps
from the Riding School to the entrance and she
ascended these steps with the assistance of a little
walking stick, looking as I thought remarkably

90

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

tiny, but for all this quite queenly. She wanted to
know what age was the donkey, and where he
had come from and so on. My groom was a German
and she spoke to him in his own tongue.

Then she touched the donkey's back with her
stick and he began to kick and bray, singing
" The Conquering Hero Comes " — so this particular
noise was called.

The row proved too much for Her Majesty's
endurance and nerves. " Take him away — I have
had enough of him," she exclaimed imperiously,
and my groom promptly obeyed her, and this
ended the show.

" Tom " was despatched to the station and I was
about to follow him when Sir Henry Ponsonby
came to me saying, " I am going back to
Paddington, would you travel in my car-
riage ? "

I thanked him very much and accepted his
invitation.

All the way from Windsor to Paddington my
thoughts were that everybody would go on their
knees to me ! I considered myself at that minute
as the greatest man living ! We reached Paddington
and Sir Henry wished me good-bye, thanking me
from her Majesty, and entering his brougham,
drove off. When I stepped from the carriage,
instead of everybody being on their knees, one of
the porters stamped on my beautiful patent leather
boots and of course on my favourite corn. Oh,
the language that followed ! Otherwise not a soul
took the least bit of notice of me ! And that
broke my pride !

91

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

I have sometimes fancied that had not " Tom "
burst into " See the Conquering Hero Comes,"
her Majesty might have honoured me with a few
words as well as my German groom. However,
she was gracious enough to send me a diamond pin,
which I possess to this day.

92

CHAPTER IX

I experiment with geese. A goose race in tubs. A fiasco.
Sarony, the showman artist-photographer of Scarborough.
I begin the training of geese. Their erratic behaviour. They
devour the stuffing of the ring fence. Mr. Hengler's indignation.
The Sisters Vades and their safety net. The geese make a meal
off the net and spoil the turn of the sisters. Their doom
pronounced by Mr. Hengler. How they terminated their
career. I fail to train a vicious monkey. The late King
Edward (then Prince of Wales) at Scarborough — I am permitted
to join his shooting party. I arrange a children's cricket match
at which the Prince and Dr. W. G. Grace captain the respective
sides. I get up a comic cricket match at Hengler's at the
Prince's request. I make up as " W. G." and execute a
marvellous and unsuspected hit. My horse " Spot " and his
dancing on the Scarborough sands. The Scarborough widows.

It is a short step from donkeys to geese. Both are
popularly supposed to be stupid, but as a matter
of fact they are remarkably intelligent. Another
point in common between them is that when they
make up their minds to do a thing (or not to do it —
generally the latter) they persist in following their
own way, and no amount of persuasion can turn
them from it.

My first experience of geese was in Ireland.
While Hengler's Circus was at Dublin a certain
nobleman called on Mr. Powell, Hengler's manager,
and asked to see me. I was sent for, introduced to

93

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

his lordship, who disclosed the nature of the business
which had induced him to seek me out. It was
nothing more or less than to act as master of the
ceremonies of the Royal Irish Yacht Club at their
regatta to be held at Kingston.

It sounded like rather a tall order and a bit out
of my line, but when the matter was fully explained
it appeared to come within the range of clowning.
What I was wanted to do was to superintend a
race in tubs drawn by geese. His lordship had
seen something of the sort at Yarmouth Regatta,
and had been much taken with the sport. It was,
of course, no novelty, and if my memory serves me
it was first introduced by a celebrated clown, who
tried the experiment on the Thames early in the
nineteenth century. I could not quite make up
my mind, seeing that I knew nothing about geese
or tubs, but when it was suggested that I should
visit the club the following day and have a cham-
pagne lunch and talk the matter over, there really
seemed to be something in the idea.

Accordingly I went to the club and learned that
it was proposed to have four tubs, each to contain
a soldier, and each tub to be drawn by a team of
four geese. The scheme did not include me as a
performer. I was simply to see that everything
was in order, act as starter, etc. So / was all
right and ran no risk of a ducking. The geese were
to do without any training ; we were to trust to their
intelligence and their appreciation of their duties
as entertainers. At the same time, knowing some-
thing of the vagaries of the brute creation, I
suggested that it would be well to have at least
one rehearsal, and this was agreed to.

94

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

My first business was to get the tubs and the
geese. The tubs were procured easily enough,
the purchase of sixteen geese a Httle more difficult,
as I wanted them of the same size as nearly as
possible. Luckily geese are plentiful enough in
Ireland, as the English well know at Christmas
time, and after visiting two or three farms I picked
up my team and had them driven to headquarters.
It was a sort of rambling procession to the stables,
hundreds of delighted children following me and
my geese and wondering what all the hubbub
and cackling was about.

During the next four days I was busy in having
suitable harness made for the geese and in pre-
paring the tubs. The regatta day was on a Friday
(nobody reflected how unlucky this choice was)
and his lordship fixed the rehearsal for the day
before. The sea on Thursday proved to be rather
rough and I did not care to take the risk of a
failure, so suggested that the rehearsal should
be deferred until eight o'clock the following
morning, when it would be high tide, and so it
was settled.

At the hour appointed we had everything in
readiness — the four soldiers, the four tubs and
the sixteen geese. They were all eagerly waiting
for me and prepared to enter heartily into the
fun like true Irish lads. Each soldier had a long
cane, with little pieces of ribbon tied to it by
way of decoration, to guide the geese with, as of
course bits had to be dispensed with, Nature not
having provided the necessary teeth.

" Now boys," said I, " directly you see me
drop my handkerchief jump into the tubs."

95

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

They took up their positions each opposite a
tub, their eyes at *' attention," fixed on me.

" Are you all ready ? " I shouted.

" Yes, sir ! "

I dropped the handkerchief. The soldier boys
made for the tubs, each one anxious to be first.
It was a rare scramble. Thump, thump, I heard,
the tubs rocked, the water poured in and swamped
them, and then to my consternation I saw the
tubs slowly sink, dragging the geese with them.
Out jumped the soldiers, who luckily could all
swim, and there they were making for the steps
on which I was standing helplessly.

It was easy after all was over to account for the
mishap. The craft had not been properly ballasted
by adequate weights to keep them steady, and
the mad rush of the soldiers had destroyed what-
ever balance the tubs possessed, which wasn't
much.

The most mortifying thing was the mirth of
the crowd, who were inclined to go for me, looking
upon me, I suppose, as a fraud. Anyway, I
thought it was best to bolt, and so I did. I made
a dash for the railway station, jumped into a
train going somewhere — I did not stop to enquire
— and that was the end of my engagement as a
M.C. of a regatta. The next day I had an inter-
view with his lordship, who good-humouredly
accepted my explanation that the roughness of
the sea was the cause of the mishap.

I need not point out that in no sense were
these geese performing geese, but in justice it
must be said that they never had a chance of
showing what they could do. My doings with

96

Whimsical Walker, in his stiuli
writing his life

Whimsical Walker as old " Daniel Peggotty,'
in Hepworths film, "David Copperfield " '

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

properly trained geese came afterwards, when
I was with Hengler's at Scarborough. I had
some time previously had a trial with game-
cocks— their story will find a place later on —
but I found they were not to be depended upon,
and this led me to turn my attention to geese.

The great man at Scarborough in those days
was Sarony. In his way he was quite a genius.
He had begun life as a showman — in America, I
think — and he was enormously successful not
only in the profession in which he started but
subsequently as an artist-photographer. He had
a sumptuous studio at Scarborough and was
patronised by the highest people in society. His
photographs certainly were the loveliest things
of their kind then to be seen, and his work was
well known all over the world.

But in his heart he was the showman, and he
looked it — a short, thick- set man with enormously
broad shoulders, big muscular throat of which he
showed an ample quantity, with his turn-down
collar and flowing necktie, his smooth black hair
allowed to grow somewhat lengthy, his hawk-
like nose, flexible lips and penetrating dark eyes.
He always wore the broad brimmed soft felt
hat which in those days marked the photographer.
His personality was distinctly attractive and he
had a way of making himself very engaging,
especially to his lady sitters.

He did not forget the showman, even as an
artist and photographer. It was a matter of
indifference to him how few the number of copies
of a photo a customer ordered. He had a formula
in reserve which brought him in hundreds of

97

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

pounds. The plan was this. Directly a photo-
graph was taken with which he was satisfied —
and he was a better judge than the sitter — a
lantern transparency was made from the negative.
In the meantime, while the transparency was
being prepared, he would engage the sitter in his
beautifully appointed reception room in fascinating
talk, and while bowing him or her out would
remark quite casually,

" By the way, here is something which might
interest you."

Drawing aside a curtain he would usher his
customer into a darkened chamber, at the end
of which was a screen on which a life size enlarge-
ment of the photograph which had just been
taken was thrown. The sitter was naturally over-
whelmed with surprise — surprise by the way is
the essence of the showman's art. Sarony in his
insinuating way would dilate upon the beauty
of an enlarged reproduction finished in oils, and
it may safely be said that in five cases out of six
he landed his fish, and the customer who came
in with the intention of spending a five pound
note ended in spending twenty times that amount.

But the finished reproduction in oils was well
worth the money. Sarony had a painter's studio
attached to his establishment and a staff of fine
artists to whom he paid very large salaries. He
would touch nothing, no matter what he dabbled
in, but the best. I may say in passing that no one
had a larger clientele of actors and actresses than
Sarony of Scarborough, and his portraits, many
of which were to be seen in the box office lobbies
of theatres, were always greatly admired.

98

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Now Sarony had built a magnificent circus in St.
Thomas' Street, Scarborough, and it was there that
Hengier's had its pitch, not for one season, but for
many. Of a necessity novelties had to be thought
out to give the public variety. After a talk on
this point with Mr. Hengler, it occurred to me, as
animals were always a strong feature in my " busi-
ness," that something might be done with perform-
ing geese.

Accordingly I made a start with a little flock.
I adopted the same course of training with them as
with my other pupils. Every morning about the
same time I went to the circus and gave the geese
a lesson which usually lasted about one hour.
They were always somewhat erratic and wayward.
Sometimes I was very pleased and sometimes just
the reverse. Thej'' were like the girl who when she
was good was very good indeed, and when she was
bad she was horrid.

However, I persevered, thinking they would
ultimately pay me well. I was mistaken. They
brought me little else but trouble. For instance,
after the performance at night, knowing that they
liked their liberty, I would let them loose and allow
them to roam all night in the circus ring until I
came in the morning to practise them. One morn-
ing when I went into the arena I could have torn
my hair with vexation. The game those geese had
been up to during that night was, I admit, an
undoubted sign of their intelligence, but it also
marked their unscrupulousness.

The circus ring fence happened to be padded with
hay, covered over with valuable red plush, which
had cost a considerable sum per yard. The geese

99

FROM SAWT)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

soon discovered there was something underneath
the plush which suited their palate and industriously-
going to work they literally riddled the plush with
holes to get at the hay. I was too dismayed to say
anything and I let Mr. Hengler make the discovery.

He came in. He looked round. He saw the
scene of devastation. An awful frown wrinkled
his brows.

" What does it all mean ? " he thundered. " I
take a pride in making my circus look as beautiful
as a drawing room and I find it like this. Who will
give me an explanation ? "

A dead silence followed, broken presently by
one of the frightened grooms, who muttered
tremblingly,

" Please, sir, I think Mr, Walker's geese have done
it."

I was called before Mr. Hengler. He was very
angry indeed and I had to go through it. Of
course, he had a right to call me over the coals as
it meant the spending of money to put things as
they were. However, all he visited me with was
an injunction that while I was allowed to do what
I liked with the geese during the day, I must not
allow them to roam at large in the ring or else-
where at night. So on the whole I got off very
lightly. For the rest of the time the geese at
night were put to bed in a large crate.

Somehow the spirit of mischief possessed the
creatures, and no sooner was their exploit with the
plush over than they started at thinking out some
fresh devilry. Mr. Hengler about this time engaged
two handsome and clever lady trapeze artists,
the Sisters Vades. They performed with the usual

100

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

protection in the shape of a net stretched beneath
the trapeze. They started their turn and all went
well until the following Saturday, when the net
was pulled down and was placed on the top of the
crate where the geese were kept, and here it
remained all Saturday night, Sunday and Monday.
No one gave a thought to it, save the geese, who all
the while were thinking deeply.

The time came for the commencement of the
preparations for the performance of the Sisters
Vades. The net was taken from the top of the
crate and — horror ! — half of it had been eaten away.
The geese had found their opportunity and had
made use of it. But their digestions — they could
hardly have been less powerful than those of
ostriches !

The sisters could not perform without the net
and when Mr. Hengler was told that they were
unable to appear he sternly demanded the reason.

Again the reply, " Walker's geese." It was
becoming monotonous.

A row followed, and the upshot was that the
geese were condemned, to my intense chagrin and
disappointment, for I was really looking forward
to making something of them and out of them.

Their end was in a way a sort of Nemesis. I
was invited by the Sisters Vades to dine with them
and their manager. The principal dish was roast
goose — one of my geese ! So in this way the ladies
had their revenge. It was a fitting one.

I had another failure with animals while at
Scarborough. This time it was a monkey. Mr.
Clark, who was performing with a troupe of animals,
made me a present of a monkey which he could

101

FROM SAWT)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

do nothing with. I suppose that was why he gave it
to me. I tried my hardest with the Httle beast,
but he was either stupid or untameable. I looked
about for someone to pass it on to, and I thought of
Mr. Morgan, who was then Mayor of Scarborough,
and who was at the time running the Aquarium,
one of the attractions of the place being a cage of
monkeys. Mr. Morgan thought companionship
would be beneficial to my monkey and he
accepted it.

Mr. Morgan sent a couple of sailors with a sack
to fetch the monkey and a rare job they had. They
chased him all over the loft and had to be extremely
spry and wary, as the creature was very vicious.
However, at last he was captured, thrust somehow
into the sack, carried to the Aquarium and put
with the other monkeys. He had not been with
them two hours or so before the harmony of the
home was entirely upset. I had an agonised
message somewhat to this effect :

" For Heaven's sake come and take away your
monkey. He's killing all our monkeys ! "

I could only see one answer to this and I made it.
My reply was :

" Quite impossible. The monkey was a gift to
you. I'm too much of a gentleman to take back
a gift."

I don't know whether the people at the Aquarium
took this view of the matter. Anyhow, they
found a speedy way out of the difficulty. They
shot the monkey.

Happily all this ill-luck at Scarborough was
more than compensated by the fortunate chance
which sent the late King Edward, then Prince

102

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

of Wales, to the Yorkshire watering place during
the shooting season. I was at Hengler's for a
six weeks' engagement and I rather think I was
sent down to do my best to entertain Royalty.
Among the Prince's party were the Earl of
Londesborough, Sir Charles Legard and Dr. W.
G. Grace. I had a right royal time as I was often
" commanded " to be one of the shooting party.
Nobody could be a more delightful host than
our late King. He aimed at being happy himself
and in making other people happy.

I shall never forget when passing through
Seamer, a little village a few miles out of Scar-
borough, the Prince turning to me as a crowd of
children were swarming out of school and saying :

" Walker, can't you get up a cricket match
with the children ? "

A word was as good as a wink to me, and I
got all the kiddies together and took them into
a cricket field at the back of a little roadside inn
(kept, by the way, by a namesake of mine but
no relation) which was rather a noted place for
cricket matches.

No one knew the Prince was of the party and
he picked his side without anything occurring to
embarrass him. He was opposed by Dr. Grace,
and for half an hour the game was kept up, his
Royal Highness evidently enjoying himself to
the utmost.

When the sport was over the party went back
to Londesborough Lodge, and in the course of
the evening the Prince said to me,

" Walker, we're coming to see you at the circus
to-night at about 9 o'clock."

103

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

" All right, your Highness," said I. " What
would you like me to do ? "

*' Can't you get up something to please the
doctor ? " {i.e.. Dr. Grace).

" I'll do my best," was my answer, and I left
the Royal party at that.

The idea in my mind was a burlesque cricket
match, but there wasn't too much time to prepare
the " business " — about an hour, as a matter of
fact. I made myself a huge bat against which
no ball could have a possible chance unless I
chose to give one, and — I made up as the cele-
brated and popular " W. G."

The Royal party arrived — the Prince and
Princess of Wales, Lord and Lady Londesborough,
Miss Sykes, Sir Charles Legard, Dr. Grace and
many others — and took their seats. I needn't
go over the comic business that the mock
cricketers, all made up as clowns, indulged in.
I need only say that our fooling seemed to please
the distinguished visitors immensely. The hit —
in more senses than one — came when I, as Dr.
Grace, armed with my huge bat, took my place
at the wicket. The bowler sent me down a
" yorker " and I went for the ball (it was made
of worsted) for all I was worth. I intended to
swoop it among the gallery people, but somehow
it glided off my hat and went straight for Dr.
Grace, who had to field it whether he would or no.
I guess his hands went up by instinct. Such peals
of laughter, yells of applause, clapping of hands
and stamping of feet as were sent up I never heard
in any theatre.

104

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Maybe some of the audience thought the thing
was intentional, but it wasn't. It was purely
accidental. After the performance was over I
was called to the Prince, who, with a merry twinkle
in his eye, wanted to know how long the doctor
and I had been arranging the hit and the catch.
The only explanation I could give, I said, was
that the thing was a miracle. He looked at me
with a humorous expression as though he would
have said, " Ananias." I don't think he really
believed me, but for all that the incident was
exactly as I have related it.

One more reminiscence and I have done with
Scarborough. I used to go there year after year,
as I had become a favourite with the visitors and
they always expected some novelty from me.
One year I went day after day opposite the Spa,
and when the tide was out and Herr Meyer Lutz's
fine band was playing, I would give the people
a treat with my performing horse, " Spot." He
was a black and white, and a very clever dancer
to music. I always wore a frock coat, plaid
trousers, and a tall silk hat, and I styled myself
the " Duke of Scorby Mills."

As the tide came rolling up, " Spot," at a little
sign from me, would roll down in the sea with me
in my Rotten Row attire, to the huge delight of
the spectators. In the afternoon it was pleasant
pastime to mash some of the widows. I don't
think I was much to blame as Scarborough
abounded in widows, and if you didn't mash them
they would mash you. One fascinating widow,
whose acquaintance I made, ran me up a nice
little hotel bill. Her money was always coming

105 H

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

from South America, but somehow it never made
its appearance, and then she vanished. Maybe
she went back to South America, and got drowned
on the voyage, as I never heard from her. But
I preserved the hotel receipts as a memento.
The moral is that every man who spends his
holiday in Scarborough should keep the elder Mr.
Weller's advice in mind, " Bevare of vidders."

106

CHAPTER X

1 am engaged to appear at Madrid. Something about my
wonderful game-cock. Cock fighting in London in the
'Eighties ! The secret of an Endell Street cellar. How I
obtained the bird. A match between myself and the game-
cock. An Argyle Street show which took the town. A trying
journey to Madrid. The trials of Spanish etiquette. Am
invited by Royality to a bull fight. The singing donkey creates
a furore. Also the game-cock " turn." My gallio challenged
by a Spanish champion. The fight comes off. The Spaniard
defeated. The Spanish game-cock fanciers anxious to secure
my bird. I adopt precautions for his safety. Difficulties in
the way of returning home. I succeed by a ruse in escaping.

When Hengler's Circus was at Argyle Street I
had an offer to go to Madrid. I imagined that
my reputation, or that of my donkey, had reached
the Spanish capital, but after I had had personal
experience of the taste of the Spaniards I came
to the conclusion that a part of the attraction
was due to a remarkable game-cock of which I
had become possessed and which I had trained
to be an important member of my little troupe.
The Spaniards, I afterwards discovered, loved to
see cock-fighting.

X07

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

I suppose one-half, or more, of the people in
London do not know how the other half live.
Certainly so far as amusement, and especially
sport, is concerned this is the case. I guess that
if you care to pay for it you can get in London any
pleasure you like, whether outside the law or not.
When I say that during the 'Eighties cock-fighting
went on in London, it is possible that I shall be
accused of telling a tarradiddle, but it was the
absolute fact.

One of my friends in those days was Charlie
Best, who then was proprietor of the " Horse-
shoe," in the Tottenham Court Road. Mr. Best
was a great lover of sport, and among other fancies
had a liking for cock-fighting. This once aristo-
cratic amusement was supposed to be a thing
of the past, but it wasn't, and some of the young
bloods of the " Upper Ten," who knew mine host
of the *' Horseshoe," were eager to be patrons
when it was whispered to them that they could
take part in a revival of the cockpit of the
eighteenth or early nineteenth century.

Of course every precaution was taken to secure
secrecy, and no one who passed along prosaic
Endell Street ever suspected that in a cellar
underneath a certain ironmonger's shop (1 think
the name was Faltless) noble lords and their friends
used thrice a month to assemble in this sub-
terranean retreat and excite themselves over
matches between game-cocks. Such, however,
was the fact, and many a time I was among the
spectators as a friend of Charlie Best. That betting
went on goes without saying. A cock-fight with-
out anything " on " is unthinkable.

108

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Most people know what the cock-pits of a hundred
years and more ago were Uke. The old coloured
prints of such places are numerous enough —
an arena with a ring fence of a yard or so in height,
behind which the owners of the birds and their
friends sat, and a gallery above for the public.
This cock-pit was not at all that kind of thing.
It had a sort of arena, it was true, but this was all.

The game-cock owned by Mr. Best was a marvel
and I broke the tenth commandment over him
constantly. Mr. Best, you must know, ran the
refreshment buffet at Hengler's, so that I was
very intimate with him, and I think I advertised
him and his Bass pretty well among the hosts of
people who came to call upon me. I wanted that
bird very much indeed. I had an idea that I
could make good use of him in the circus, especially
as a comic show for the children, and at last Mr.
Best gave him to me, after he had won seven
battles, as a return for my pushing his business.

Directly I had the bird in my possession I went
to a very clever theatrical property maker named
Hessan and arranged with him to make me a huge
cock dress of the colours exactly similar to those
of the bird. He set to work and succeeded in
producing a really wonderful property dress.
Then I started training the game-cock.

Perhaps it mayn't be generally known that the
cock-birds of this species have a language of their
own. Well, they have, and I studied it. Listen
to his cry. As nearly as it can be put on paper
it sounds like " Krrrrrrr." That means he is
calling his wives together, and he soon shows them
that he is master of his harem.

109

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Wearing my cock dress I took the bird to the
arena and burst into a song as nearly Hke " Krrrrrrr "
as I could make it. He at once suspected the
presence of a hated rival. He pricked up his
head as if he were saying, " Hallo, what's this
massive brute ? " He went for me as fiercely
as though I'd been one of his own size. I pre-
tended to be afraid. I ran away. He came after
me, pecking at me savagely, and we dodged each
other all over the ring.

Then I began to take off my garments one by
one to let him know who I was, and in a month
or so I allowed him to think he was my master.
I used to keep him in a little square box and feed
him on raw meat, port wine, and oats. Nobody
but myself was allowed to touch him and he
knew his business as if I had trained a child. I
had him for many years and he has caused me
many a pain. Poor boy, he died with the croup,
but was very, very vicious. I never saw such a
bird as he. No fun about him when he was
fighting me — he meant it — and he used to hang
on like a bull-dog. I buried the poor bird in Dublin.
I have tried to train a lot more, but directly they
get in the footlights they are no good.

But before he died he greatly distinguished
himself, and nowhere more than in Madrid, and
of my visit to which city I will try to say some-
thing. Besides my game-cockerel I had with
me my two invaluable donkeys. Knowing not a
word of Spanish I had to take with me an inter-
preter, one Pedro Sterling, who was half a Spaniard.
I need not say that with my oddly assorted com-
panions my journey was full of difficulties. How-

110

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

ever, we got safely to Paris, and from the Gare
du Nord we had to cross Paris to reach another
station to get down south. However, after some
Uttle trouble this was accomplished, the donkeys
and the cockerel travelling in a van together with
a tin pail for the donkeys to drink from.

The journey to the Spanish frontier was not
marked by any particular incident, but when we
arrived at Antondy, a little town on the frontier,
the railway people for some reason which didn't
seem very clear refused to take us any further,
and we had to stop in the town until the next
morning.

Pedro Sterling found an hotel, the proprietor
of which agreed to accommodate our little party
— donkeys, cockerel and two beds for myself and
Pedro. The hotel was by no means inviting, but
we had to make the best of things. It was built
of wooden piles and the donkeys had to share a
shed with some cows. We managed to swallow
some supper, but it was by no means appetising —
simply bread and lard, no butter !

As we passed through the saloon — so-called —
a dirty ill-lighted place, three villainous-looking
Spaniards, black as ink, scowled at us and fixed
their eyes — so it seemed to me — on my gold chain,
a rather massive affair on which I set great store.
We reached our bedroom, a squalid chamber
enough, with one small window about eighteen
inches square. We got into bed and the inter-
preter was soon fast asleep. I, on the contrary,
could not get a wink for thinking of the Spaniards
of the cut-throat aspect. However, I suppose
I misjudged them, for nothing happened.

Ill

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

I turned out about 5.30, feeling done up, for
I had had practically no rest since I left London
on Sunday night, and it was now Wednesday
morning. We reached the station in good time
and waited an hour for the train, which when it
came along proved to be chiefly for luggage with
three coaches only for passengers.

We settled the donkeys in a miserable horse
truck along with the cockerel, the tin pail and a
quantity of hay and corn, and my boxes. I was so
tired I laid down on the hay and straw by the side
of the donkeys rather than travel in an uncomfort-
able carriage crowded with people. So I was locked
in the horse box, dark and stuffy as it was. No
window was pro\ided, only a little hole about
a foot square for ventilation.

The horn sounded and the train started. It
crawled at about two miles an hour and for what
it lacked in speed it made up in rattling and bump-
ing. It was impossible to sleep. The horse box
had no springs and the pail at once began to dance
about, so did the donkeys, the cockerel and the
boxes. I found myself doing a sort of jig a Za a
parched pea in a frying pan. I shall never forget it.

The train stopped at every station and I tried
to get out, but it was impossible. I yelled for
Pedro Sterling, but he never heard me. I had to
suffer being shaken up like dice until we reached
San Sebastian, when I had a happy release, but
only on making a signal of distress by pushing the tin
pail through the ventilating hole and shaking it.

I found Pedro confortable enough with a Spanish
gentleman whose acquaintance he had made, seated
opposite to him.

112

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

After giving the donkeys water and seeing that
they were all right, I joined Pedro, and the train
went on to Madrid. I gave Pedro a graphic account
of my sufferings and he told our fellow passenger,
in Spanish of course. The Spaniard expressed his
sympathy and through Pedro enquired whether I
would like a little wine. There was nothing I
felt at that moment I would like better and Pedro
conveyed my assent, upon which the Spanish
gentleman brought out a beautiful skin with a
gold mouthpiece attached.

I hadn't the least idea how to drink out of this
native bottle and Pedro Sterling explained. You
are not supposed to put the mouthpiece to your
lips, but to hold it an inch or two away. Pedro
then showed me the operation. Clearly my inter-
preter was an expert and as he did it the trick
seemed easy enough. I held up the mouthpiece,
wished the don " good health," in English, and
started to drink. Unluckily the stream missed the
target — instead of going into my mouth it hit my
eyes and my nose, and finished by running down my
shirt front.

This was bad enough, but what was much worse,
I had outraged Spanish etiquette, which I after-
wards found was extremely rigid. The gentleman
did not laugh, though I must have presented a
ludicrous sight, but regarded my awkwardness as
an insult to himself ! Pedro had all his work cut
out to convince the Spaniard that the mishap was
purely an accident, but at last he succeeded.

We arrived at Madrid about seven o'clock the
next morning. We were expected ; a carriage and
pair were awaiting us and we were driven to the

113

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

hotel, the donkeys and cockerel being taken to
the circus. I had not been at the hotel many hours
before I was made acquainted with the courtesy
which Spaniards of noble birth and high rank
display towards visitors. Queen Isabella actually
sent a dignified gentleman belonging to the suite
to enquire if I would like to see a bull-fight !

I was overwhelmed with the royal politeness and I
said that I certainly should. Then the question
was put as to which day I should prefer for my
performance at the circus. I asked which was the
best day and was told " Sunday." " Very good,"
said I, " Sunday for me."

I went to the bull-fight and I must say that I
was greatly impressed by the imposing spectacle.
Thousands of people, most of them ladies, many of
them exquisitely dressed, from the highest to the
lowest, were seated tier upon tier round an enormous
arena. A clear blue sky was overhead and the
brilliant sunshine heightened the colours of the
decorations and the gay costumes of the picadors
and matadors.

Bull-fights have been described many times,
so I will say no more than that I was sorry for the
horses. Many of them were poor old crocks who
hadn't the slightest chance of avoiding the bull's
horns. I saw twenty-seven of them killed. As for the
riders, they were protected by what might be termed
thigh boots of steel. These protections had one
drawback — they were so heavy that when the
wearer fell he couldn't get up again, but had to be
dragged away by one party of attendants while
another deviated the attention of the bull.

I was told that if there was any deficiency of

114

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

horses the organisers had the power to commandeer
any which might be in the streets, no matter how
valuable. The bull-fights being State affairs,
remonstrance was useless in such a case.

The killing of the bull struck me as rather
repulsive. Fortunately it was very rapidly done —
just a thrust of the sword at the back of the neck
and the animal fell dead, its spinal cord severed.
What struck me as curious was the mad enthusiasm
of the spectators, who at the termination of the
performance cast their garments, coats, hats,
waistcoats, etc., into the arena. This did not
mean that they were given away. Not at all.
Every article had to be returned to the rightful
owner. Anxious to show that the English were
not wanting in politeness, I interested myself in
the work of restoration, but chancing to give a
coat to the wrong person, who received it with a
cold and scornful glance, I decided to get away
as soon as possible lest I should unintentionally
violate some unwritten law of Spanish etiquette
and suffer in consequence.

Spanish etiquette I found was a wonderful and
fearful thing. Luckily I had Pedro at hand to
help me over the pitfalls. I was told, for instance,
that if you admired a thing very much — a jewel,
a picture, a horse or what not — the owner would
gravely say, " It is yours, Senor." But woe betide
you if you take him at his word ! This wasn't
in the contract at all. The apparent gift was
politeness — nothing more.

Before I gave my first performance I had to
consider what Spanish words I should put into my
donkey's mouth which my audience would appre-

115

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

ciate. I decided after consultation upon De bouro
canto patterneris.

When I announced this and my donkey " Tom "
sang it or was supposed to sing it, I never heard
such an uproar of applause as broke out in all
parts of the house. The audience wouldn't have
the next turn on the performance. It was the
donkey and nothing but the donkey that they
wanted. " Take him in again," urged the manager,
" take him in again." So I took him not once but
several times, and made him bow^ his thanks, but
this did not satisfy his admirers. " Canto I
Canto ! " they kept on shouting. However, I
knew " Tom " w^ouldn't sing again until after
half an hour's interval, so I pacified them by
introducing my fighting game-cockerel.

As it happened I couldn't have done better.
Three things the Spanish people love above all
else — ^bull-fighting, cock-fighting, and music. That
was w^hy, I fancy, my donkey with his lovely
baritone voice pleased them so much. Could he
only have played a guitar he w^ould have been
there maybe to this day !

The day following my first performance, whether
due to my neglect of Spanish precaution — they
never go out of doors in the hottest part of the day,
and they are right, for the sun pours down per-
pendicularly upon you and there isn't an atom
of shadow anywhere — or to the too liberal
hospitality which I was obliged to accept, I was
taken unwell. The one complaint which leaps
up in every Spaniard's mind when you have the
stomach-ache is the cholera. They dread it as
much as the devil is said to dread holy water I

116

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

So when I did not feel quite up to the mark I was
afraid I was in for the cholera.

A physician was sent for, and beUeve me, I
never encountered a more competent doctor or
one who adopted better remedies. Said he :

'* There is nothing the matter with the gentleman.
Give him some wine ! "

I swallowed a dose of this pleasant physic and
was well almost directly. All the same I ran great
risks, for I was invited out to supper every night
and Spanish dishes are not only savoury but
ample.

Apart from risks of indigestion there was a
drawback to those suppers. They kept me out
until the small hours in the morning, and then
owing to the customs of the country you were
likely to find yourself in a fix. In Madrid you
can get out of your domicile at any time of the
night, but you can't get in without calling out to
the watchman to open the gates for you. These
watchmen patrol the streets with a long pole and
a lantern quite in the style of the old English
" Charlies," but they are not nearly so decrepit,
although they appear to be more so if you don't
tip them. In such a case they'll take half an hour
or more to crawl three yards. I needn't say that
my hand went to my pocket without the slightest
hesitation and the fellow would come along like
a lightning flash.

The Spanish Court was exceedingly good to
me. Queen Isabella came to the show more than
once and I fancy she enjoyed it more than she
did the behaviour of the audience. Some political

117

FROM SA\\T)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

act on the part of Her Majesty had displeased
the pubhc and the house showed its feeUngs by an
unmistakable hiss when she entered the royal
box. But she heard the objectionable sound
unmoved. The Queen's presence was not the
only sign of royal favour that I received. On
one occasion I was permitted to hold King
Alphonso, then a baby, in my arms. I attribute
these marks of appreciation not so much on
account of my own performance as of that of
my donkeys. Donkeys are an institution in
Spain.

After a time I found my fighting cockerel —
gallio was the Spanish term — went down even
better than the donkeys, if such a thing were
possible. My first performance when I intro-
duced my fighting scene was a screaming success,
and was followed by a totally unexpected sequel.
The next morning while I was receiving my letters
my interpreter came up with rather a formidable-
looking Spaniard, who had something concealed
under his coat w^hich gave out a noise which
sounded as though he had a knife and was sharpening
a slate pencil. It turned out that he had brought
with him a fighting game-cock.

Said Pedro Sterling: "This Spaniard wants to
challenge your gallio to fight his gallio.''''

I looked rather serious at this strange pro-
position and pointed out that I had not brought
my bird to Madrid in order to fight. He was
part of my living and I had trained him to fight
me and not other birds.

But this explanation did not satisfy the Spaniard.
He was immensely proud of the prowess of his

118

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

bird and he was burning to see the insolent invader
bite the dust at the feet of the native product.

I wasn't having any and I still demurred, but
the man continued to insist, and at last Sterling
said : " Why not let him have a go." But my
answer was " No." Then Pedro made the puzzling
suggestion : " Let his bird put on the boxing
gloves."

" Boxing gloves," I exclaimed. " What the
deuce do you mean ? "

He explained that in Spain fighting- cocks were
provided with glove stalls stuffed with wool and
fitted on to the spurs, so that they could not hurt
each other. This put a different complexion on
the matter and I agreed.

The contrast between the two gladiators when
they were placed opposite each other was the
oddest thing possible. My beautiful bird was at
the time in lovely plumage — he was what is called
an Indian black red game-cock. But his opponent
— I never saw such a funny-looking thing. He
was of the Spanish red variety plucked the same
as a fowl ready for dinner, except for a frill of
feathers which had been left as an ornament
for his neck.

They went at it tooth and nail. The fight lasted
hardly a minute ; feathers began to fly and it
was all over except shouting. The Spaniard was
about to pick up his bird, thinking no doubt that
the native champion had had enough, when my
bird hit him with his spurs and wings and laid
him out. I don't believe such a scowl was ever
seen on man's face as that which wrinkled the

119

FROM SA^VDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Spaniard's countenance, and he burst out into
some Spanish Seven Dials' language which I
didn't understand a bit but the meaning of which
I could very well guess. I haven't tbe least doubt
Pedro interpreted the jargon correctly when he
said : " He'll have his revenge or steal your
fighting bird."

The fame of the fight spread and the circus was
crowded every night to see my gallio. He became
the source of great anxiety to me. I was perpetually
haunted by the fear of losing him or of his suffering
some injury. I had to take him to my hotel every
night and bring him back for the next performance.
For an extra precaution I paid a man ten pesetas
a week to watch and guard him. As a matter of
fact all the cock fanciers in Madrid were after him.
But he passed through these perils unscathed
and in the end I got him away safely.

My engagement terminated and I was anxious
to return home. A passport, of course, was neces-
sary, and I called on the British Consul. To my
surprise he said :

" Why do you wish to leave ? The Spaniards love
you and they want you to stay in Madrid."

Whether he said this on his own account or that
pressure had been put on him by someone I can't
say, but a month went over before that passport
arrived. Meanwhile, I had exceeded my engage-
ment and even then the circus people were very
reluctant to let me go. In order to get out of the
country I wired to my wife who was in Ireland with
Hengler's Circus to send me a message running
something like this : '' Wife ill ; return immediately
to England." The message came and on the

120

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

strength of it I was allowed to leave. It was on the
way home that my donkey had the curious opera-
tion performed on him at Bordeaux which I have
alreadv described.

121

CHAPTER XI

Odds and ends of circus life. The " peep show " cooking
stoves. How I " had " Lord Randolph Churchill in Dublin.
I distinguish myself at a sham fight. An unscrupulous practical
joker. Faked up " Zulu " warriors and how the fraud was dis-
covered. The story of a Birmingham Christmas pudding.
My trick canary that failed. A day's fishing on a yacht.

Circus life is full of odds and ends, most of them
quite unexpected. I can't recall all of the
adventures and misadventures which happened
to me in the many years I was connected with the
various travelling and touring shows, but a few
occur to me which I will try to set down.

When I was on one of Hengler's visits to Dublin
there was a horse show in Kildare Street which
lasted three days, and Mr. William Powell, Hengler's
manager, Mr. Fred Gallagher and myself were
invited on the opening day. Under a verandah
to which one ascended by a dozen stairs or so was
a collection of all the latest novelties which could
be got together, and one was an American paraffin

122

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

cooking stove. Such things are now, of course,
in every-day use, but at that time no one in Ireland
knew anything about them, though I dare say they
were well known in England and elsewhere. They
were about a foot and a half square, made of zinc,
with a little paraffin lamp underneath and a small
hole to let the steam out.

I was always on for a joke whenever I saw a
chance, and on my eyes lighting on this contrivance
something prompted me to bend down, look through
this hole and pretend I was seeing a sort of peep
show. It really was much more like a showman's
box at a fair than a stove.

With my face as solemn as a judge's I murmured
loud enough for the people round about to hear I
" What a battle scene ! Just like real life. Look
at the horses galloping ! By George, they're
going right across the mountains ! "

This was enough to stimulate the curiosity of a
crowd eager to see everything that was to be seen.
Before very long I was thrust aside by an impatient
group who thought I had monopolised the show
sufficiently and declared that it was their turn to
look. The expressions of disgust which came over
their faces when they found they had been " had "
was enough to make a cat laugh. But many did not
like to show that they had been fooled and without
saying anything they moved away and waited
for other victims. I dare say hundreds were taken
in and I enjoyed the game so much that I kept
it up on the two following days.

In a space below, near the foot of the staircase,
some of the horses were stationed, and visitors
after inspecting these would generally mount the

123

FROM SA\\T)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

staircase. On the third day the word was passed
round that Mr. Dawson, then Lord Mavor of
Dubhn, and Lord Randolph Churchill were coming,
and the man from America who had charge of the
stoves, said to me :

*' If you can only get the Lord Mayor and Lord
Randolph Churchill to look through the hole my
cooking stoves are made."

I thought that if this were brought off it would
be rather a triumph for me too and I said I'd see
what I could do. Presently quite a crowd were
waiting to see the distinguished visitors ascend
the staircase and I was waiting too. They arrived,
and as was hoped, they stopped in front of the
stove through the hole of which I was intently
gazing.

" Well," said his lordship, the Mayor, " and
what have you got there ? "

I did not answer the question, but merely asked
him to peep through the hole, which he did. With
a blank look on his face he turned to me saying :

" I can't see anything."

" Exact! V," was my reply, " who said you
could?"

No one is quicker to take a joke than an Irishman.
The Lord Mayor tumbled to the fake instantly
and he whispered :

" A capital joke. Get my friend Lord Randolph
to look through."

I did, and directly the noble lord had his eye at
the peephole and was trying with all his might to
see something, the people who had been " had "
set up a mighty " Hurrah ! " and clapped their

124

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

hands vigorously at the addition of another
victim.

Unfortunately the sudden noise frightened the
horses below. Mr. Powell, who was with them,
yelled out " Hop it ! " I took his advice and the
police, for some reason thinking there was going
to be a disturbance, went for me. As I darted
down the stairs I caught my foot in a bucket of
water which had been placed for the horses and
down I went. I suppose I was in the mood that day
for mad pranks, for the next thing I did was to
pretend to have a fit.

The sympathising crowd gathered round. No
one knew exactly what to do, but they suggested
everything they could think of. Among the would-
be helpers was an Irish attendant, who exclaimed :

" Sure an' it's a shame it is to see a fellow creature
in disthress. It's more air that he wants," and
forthwith proceeded to drag open my shirt.

I had on a beautiful tie and pin, but these made
no difference to the warm-hearted Irishman. He
stuck his fingers in my collar and without wasting
time in unbuttoning it — gosh ! — tore it apart in
his anxiety to give me air. I saw my pin and tie
going. I grabbed both, sprang to my feet and was
through the door in a flash, leaving the police, the
crowd and the warm-hearted Irishman to make
what they could of my wild proceedings.

The little string of fooleries didn't end there.
Jumping into a jaunting car I drove to Corlis's
restaurant and took refuge there, for the crowd
were tearing after my car. As I did not make
my appearance the mob got tired and dispersed ;

125

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

I then came out and went on to the Abbey Hotel.
As I took my seat in the dining room a waiter
passed me with a beautiful chop, bread and
potatoes. He was taking it to some other diner
and the sight was too much for me. Looking
him sternly in the face I exclaimed,

" You've been a long time cooking that chop."

" I'm very sorry, sir — I "

" Sorry be hanged. I've been waiting a deuce
of a while and I'm very hungry."

He placed the chop before me and I ate it then
and there. How long the other man had to wait
I can't say. Of course it was rather rough on
him and I would have apologised had I dared.

I ought to add that the hoax that had been
played on the Lord Mayor and Lord Randolph
Churchill soon got wind, and that night when I
performed at the circus the audience gave me a
great reception and nothing was heard for some
few minutes but cries of " Cooking stoves — cooking
stoves," and no less would satisfy them than my
sending for a stove to show how Churchill had
been " had," in which I had an advertisement
as well as the stoves.

While at Dublin I was invited to Phoenbc Park
to see a sham fight. I was accompanied by all
Mr. Hengler's company on horseback. Of course,
I being a well-known character, they gave me
one of the worst horses to ride. The brute was
called " Merryman " and he was in every sense
well named. Directly the guns went off he bolted
— I was round his back — over his head — hatless —
and I thought my time had come. Out of sheer

126

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

merriment, I suppose, he took me among the
soldiers, and there was a rare hubbub till the
colonel of the regiment ordered me up to his side.
I thought he was going to send me to the castle
to be shot, but instead of that he kept me by him
in the midst of the fighting, to the great joy of the
spectators. To see me flying about with frock
coat over my head — sometimes with my arms
clutching the horse's mane and sometimes
apparently making for his tail — I was a huge
success.

Practical joking seems to be part and parcel
of circus life. The most inveterate practical
joker I ever knew was a man named Dan Leeson.
He was my travelling companion and we used
to go shares in the apartments in the various
towns where the circus stopped, board, etc. But
occasionally his jokes went beyond the limit.

I have seen him go out in the morning, buy a
mackerel, cut it open and fill it full of gunpowder.
He would then with a needle and thread sew
it up again, take it home to the landlady, and
tell her to put it on the gridiron for breakfast.
You can imagine the result. Half the chimney
blown away, soot coming down, landlady in
hysterics, police, fire engines, etc., etc. Some-
times he would go into a public house and get a
glass of beer and a bit of cheese and biscuit. The
cheese having been cut in squares, he would buy
some soap and cut it also in squares, mix it with
the cheese, and sit down and await the result.
The grimaces and contortions of the victims who
tasted the soap seemed to give him a morbid
satisfaction.

127

FROM SA\^T)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Leeson reached the limit in an outrageous
prank he played in a Liverpool theatre. Stuffing
a piece of haddock in one of the sound holes of
the double bass he awaited the outcome. It
wasn't long before the haddock showed signs of
its presence. Its offence was rank and smelt to
heaven. The orchestra became conscious of its
vile odour, and complaints reached the manager,
but of course the cause was not suspected. A
manager doesn't as a rule consider the feelings
of the orchestra, and pooh-poohed their grumblings.
It was a different matter when the haddock
became more lively ; the stallites sniffed, and
whispers began to be current that something

was wrong with the drains of the

theatre. The sanitary inspector was called in,
and an investigation was made. The flooring
was torn up, pipes opened, but nothing resulted
beyond a long bill which the proprietor received
with a long face. Gradually the decomposition
of the haddock was completed and the nuisance
ceased. Many months afterwards the secret oozed
out. But by that time the author of the un-
pleasant hoax was far away. My impression is
that there was a kink in Leeson's brain, and I'm
glad that my association with him did not last
long. I believe he finished his career where he
had few opportunities of exercising his fiendish
power of invention. It was said he died in
prison.

The influence of clowning is very difficult to
shake off. It gets into the blood and pursues
one outside the theatre. The essence of harle-
quinade humour is practical joking, and no matter

128

Theatre Royau Drury Lane, London,

Panlomlme 1913-14.-15-16-17-18-19
1920 & 1921.

All ready to appear before the British Public,
Drury Lane Theatre Pantomime

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

where the clown may be he finds it hard to resist
a chance of taking someone in after the fashion
of foothghts fun. At least I found it to be so ;
anyhow, here is a case in point.

Some theatrical friends and myself were enjoying
ourselves one afternoon in a certain Yorkshire

hotel, and the proprietor, Mr. B , formed one

of our party. We were ensconced in his private
parlour, but with my usual restlessness, I kept
wandering in and out of the room searching for
something which might afford material for a
practical joke. The rollicking spirit of mischief
possessed me. In the corridor I espied several
pairs of boots which I knew belonged to the pro-
prietor. Putting a pair of these in the pockets
of my overcoat I went back to the parlour.

" Here, Mr. B ," I remarked, " we know, old

man, that you're not a bad sort. When I was
outside the hotel just now a rather well-dressed
chap accosted me, said he was hard-up, and offered
to sell me these boots, which he says are relics
of his better days. They won't fit me, but they
seem just about your size. Try 'em on, and see
if you can do the poor fellow a good turn."

The proprietor, who was rather short-sighted,
immediately took off his slippers, tried on the
boots and declared they fitted perfectly — which
no doubt they did, seeing he had worn them many
times.

" Delighted ! " exclaimed Mr. B , " I'll have

them. Give the poor fellow this half sovereign,
and tell him I'll keep the boots."

Out came half a sovereign, and I departed in
search of the supposed starving man, whose heart-

129

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

felt thanks I brought back with me to the beaming
proprietor, who was highly gratified to be able
to do a kind action. Of course, we kept up the
joke for some time, and when it was played out
and the half sovereign was returned, the host
insisted on spending it in refreshments for the
company.

It may be that the " fakes " and dodges that
showmen are so clever in concocting stimulate an
unnatural sort of ingenuity which may well foster
practical joking. Showmen are certainly past
masters in the art of " codding." I recollect at the
time of the Zulu war how one showman conceived
the idea of exhibiting a number of Zulu warriors.
There was only one drawback — not a single Zulu
was at that moment in the country. But draw-
backs do not exist for the born showman and a party
of ordinary -niggers were easily made up into
Cetewayo's savage soldiery.

The arrangement of the " war-dance " one of
them executed really had a touch of genius about it.
The place of exhibition was a penny show. There
were no seats and the visitors walked about where
they liked. When the " war-dance " was about
to begin, the exhibitor, in that impressive manner
which only a showman can put on, warned every-
body that the " Zulu " about to flourish his assegai
was very dangerous and that every precaution
would be taken, but that to be on the safe side the
spectators had better keep at a respectful
distance.

This was enough to send a pleasant thrill through
the gaping crowd and the " precaution " which
followed heightened expectations. The warrior

130

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

in his native undress with a piece of skin — supposed
to be from a lion — stalked in, assegai in hand, and
gave a fiendish grin. Then a strong leather belt
was put about his waist and having attached to it
four stout ropes placed, so to speak, at the four
points of the compass. Four men held the ropes
so that the savage couldn't stir from the spot
on which he was put. Then he started waving his
spear, contorting his body, stamping with his bare
feet and uttering unearthly howls expressive of his
bloodthirsty desires. Although the ropes held him
stationary there was nothing to prevent him hurling
his assegai, but this risk only added to the excite-
ment, and when the performance was over the
audience departed quite satisfied that they had
witnessed the real thing.

On one occasion this troupe of '* Zulus " were
let down badly. The show was at a seaport town
and among the sightseers was a number of sailors
who had just come from South Africa, who had
been up country and knew something of the Zulu
lingo. They began to talk to the performers in
what was supposed to be their native tongue,
and the-ttiggeps, who had come from any part of
Africa save Zululand, were nonplussed. If there
is one thing Jack hates it is being taken in, and they
went for the Zulus, the proprietor and the show.
There wasn't much of the latter left whole when
they had finished.

I never could resist having a lark when the
impulse and the opportunity came together. They
did so on one occasion at Birmingham. After the
death of Sir Augustus Harris, Mr. Henry Dundas,
his partner, produced the Drury Lane pantomime

131

FROM SA\\T)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

at the Birmingham Theatre, and we had a rehearsal
on Christmas Day. After the first part of the
rehearsal Frank Davies, the stage manager, and I,
went to a neighbouring hotel for some refreshment,
which we had in the dining room. As we were
leaving we passed the dinner lift, which descended
to the kitchen, at the very moment when an
appetising Christmas pudding made its appearance
on the little platform.

The sight was irresistible, and before the pudding
had time to vanish it was safely inside my Inverness.
I expect the clown instinct was to blame. Anyhow,
we went off to the theatre wishing the hotel
proprietor a '* jolly Christmas " as we went out of
the hotel. We ate the pudding on the stage and
when the rehearsal was over we went back to the
hotel for tea. The proprietor was rather ratty,
and, full of sympathy, we enquired the reason.
He told us that he and his staff had been done out
of their Christmas pudding through the mis-
behaviour of the cook.

" \^Tien it didn't come," he explained, " I
called the cook, who swore she had sent it up. I
told her she'd been drinking and sacked her at a
minute's notice.

We hadn't bargained for this. I'm afraid it
didn't occur to us that the cook would get into a
row, and we told him what had become of the pud-
ding, thinking he would see the joke. But he was as
blind as a bat, angrier than ever, and talked about
prosecuting us for theft ! The story became known :
it got into the papers under the heading, " Who
stole the Christmas pudding ? " and maybe the
advertisement the hotel got soothed the proprietor,

132

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

for we made it all right with him, and the cook was
taken back.

Apropos of Birmingham, one season when I was
with Hengler's Circus at Curzon Hall, I met a
fellow who made out that he was a poor professional
comrade. He told me he had got something for me
in the shape of a wonderful singing canary, and I
said, " Let's have a look at it." We went into the
" Boat " inn and he took me into the back room
and brought out of his pocket a stick about two
feet long with a little perch attached. From his
other pocket he produced a small cage with a canary.
Then he balanced the stick on his nose, let the bird
loose, and it flew on the top of the stick and began
to sing.

This struck me as a novelty, and I said, " Let
me try it." I did, and the dear little thing went
through the business all right.

I bought the bird right away for two pounds.

It so happened that we had a matinee in the
afternoon and I told Mr. Powell, the manager,
that I had a great novelty for the children, but I
wouldn't let him know what it was, intending to
keep it a great secret till I appeared in the arena.

I started by telling the children that I had
something wonderful for them. I balanced the
stick on my nose, opened the cage, the little bird
flew out, but instead of alighting on the stick, it
rose straight away to the top of the building. Of
course everybody said they didn't think much of the
novelty and the only thing that came of it was that
I made myself a great laughing stock.

I hunted for the man who sold the bird and sold
me in addition day after day, but all I found out

133

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

was that he was a swindler. He had put me off
with a common hen canary, which he had sub-
stituted for the trained bird.

It was only fair, I suppose, that having played
off my " whimsicalities " on other people, I should
have a share in return. The canary trick was one of
these acts of retaliation, and a practical joke I
suffered at the hands of a professional ventrilo-
quist who was called " Valentine Vox " was another.
Val was a great friend of mine and we were both
very fond of fishing. When we were performing at
the Liverpool Empire he came to my dressing room
one day, saying:

" Whimmy, I'm going fishing to-morrow just
over the bar. I've a beautiful yacht; will you
come ? "

I said I would and enquired where we were to
meet.

" At Prince's landing stage," said he, adding,
" We shall have plenty of refreshments on
board."

We met the next morning with our sea fishing
tackle. I looked about for the beautiful yacht,
but could see nothing of the kind.

"Oh," said he, "that's all right. She's
anchored outside. Jump aboard this boat and
these chaps will take us to it."

The boat was a clumsy mud barge attached
to a tug which dragged us some little distance
down the Mersey. I saw a twinkle in his eye.
We crawled along and I began to have my
suspicions, which were soon verified, for the
beautiful yacht of which he had spoken was nothing
but a mud barge ! The only excuse Val gave

134

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

me was that he thought it much safer than the
yacht, and so it may have been, but the worst
of it was that once on we couldn't get off, and we
were on that barge in the broiUng sun all day
till five o'clock at night. We never had a bite —
much less a fish, and there was nothing for it
but to go to sleep, and sleep I did !

135

CHAPTER XII

More odds and ends. How I was rescued from " drowning "
at Douglas. The mock medals. A night sensation at sea. I
act as a race-course steward at the Manx " Derby." A good
old " gag." I personate another actor at Warrington. Dan
Leno's champion clog dancing. Eccentric lodging house
keepers. Selling the " deadheads." Advertisements introduced
into performing. A mean firm. Curried fowl and the dis-
appointed supers. Advertising an electric bell. The audience
" sold." I play at the Cirque Nouveau, Paris. My excess of

zeal.

I RECALL an unrehearsed incident at Douglas,
in the Isle of Man. Hengler's Circus was situated
on the quay and while it was there the maiden
voyage of the steamship The Peveril from
Liverpool to Douglas took place. Thousands and
thousands of people waited on the pier to see this
new boat arrive and all were agog to give it a
hearty reception. It would be about noon when
Connor, the manager of the circus, said to me
chaffingly,

'* I'll bet you a bottle of champagne you don't
fall in the water."

136

FROM SA\VDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

*' Done," I said.

I went into my dressing room in the circus and
prepared for the plunge.

Connor hired a boat for himself, his wife and
children, and I was to have gone with them. I
followed them down the steps and they all got
in the boat. I was the last and I was just going
to put my foot on the boat when I slipped and
fell into the water. Amid loud yells of " A man
overboard ! " two fishermen put off and dragged me
into their boat, I making myself as heavy as
possible, as though I'd been half drowned. I was
put into a carriage and driven to the circus, which
was only about 100 yards away, and underwent
the process of first aid, the best part of which
was the liberal dose of brandy administered.

The " accident " caused intense excitement and
no end of talk, and hundreds of people came to
the circus to see if poor dear old Whimmy was
all right. Everybody breathed much more easily
when they saw a board with a bill on it announcing
that 1 should appear " Every evening at half past
seven." It was a huge advertisement for both
me and the circus, and what was more, I won
my bet !

The thing was too good to let drop without
making the most of it and as it was about the time
for my benefit to come off, we were looking about
for something startling to draw the public.

" Why not make use of your ' narrow escape
from drowning,' " said Mr. Connor. " What about
giving a medal to each of the fishermen who
pulled you out of the water and saved vour life ? "

" Splendid ! " I replied.

137 K

FROM SA\VDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Bills setting forth the heroism of the fishermen
and a good deal of flummery besides were printed,
and I needn't say the house was crowded. The
medals (made in Birmingham) cost me about
Is. 3d. each, and the moment came for me to
present them to the brave fishermen. The medals
were beautifully wrapped up in tissue paper and
the audience applauded, doubtless thinking they
were solid gold. The fishermen looked at these
two medals — awfully common things they were —
contemptuously and threw them in the sawdust.

Then turning to me one of them growled
indignantly :

" What the thingummy do you mean by in-
sulting us with things like this ? I wish to what's-
his-name you'd drowned."

And they walked out disgusted, muttering all
the uncomplimentary things about me they could
think of.

Everyone knows that the Isle of Man is the place
for sprees. I was an actor in one of them at the
Douglas races. The Douglas " Derby," I may
remark, is a lovely burlesque of the Epsom festival.
The course consists of a run over about nine fields
for a quarter of a mile, and the grand stand is
made out of orange boxes. I was made one of the
stewards and wore the biggest of rosettes,
of which I was not half proud, or pretended
to be.

For the first race five horses were entered. I
only saw one come in — I think the other four
must have fallen over the cliff, as we never found
them from that day to this. No race !

Just before the second race started one of the

138

FROM SAV^T)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

horses bolted, knocked a poor old gentleman down,
smashed his teeth, and he had to be taken to the
hospital.

There were eight or nine horses in this race
and when the first horse passed the post my
impression was that it had won, and I gave my
decision accordingly. It was pointed out that I
was quite wrong, a fearful row sprang up, and the
stewards were threatened with instant death if
they didn't give the race to the third horse that
came in. I said, of course, that it was wrong,
but a horrible fate was held out to me and I threw
up the sponge.

The third race was the big event — ^the Manx
" Derby." A man whom I didn't know came
up to me and whispered :

" The man who has been taking the money
at the gate has disappeared with the cash. The
best advice I can give you is to take that rosette off,
and get away to Douglas as soon as possible, or
they'll have your life."

It turned out that the story of the theft was
true and the thief made good his escape to
Liverpool. I lost no time in getting back to
Douglas and suffered no harm. It was otherwise
with a man named Williams, who had something
to do with the committee. An angry crowd broke
every window in his shop.

After this experience, no more steward business
for me !

The great spectacle at the circus just then was a
series representing incidents in the Zulu War,
and there came a time when the show wanted

139

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

livening up a bit. Now a little way outside Douglas
beach is what they call a " tower of refuge," and
when the tide is out you can walk to it.

Mr. Albert Hengler and I put our heads to-
gether for some new " business " and we decided
that we would have some fun on the " tower of
refuge." To make our scheme successful we had
to wait till it was a bit misty, and on a suitable
night when the tide was up about five minutes
past eleven, as the hotels were letting out the
people, there was a fierce glare in the sky over the
" tower of refuge " and everybody rushed out
into the streets and on the sea shore in orreat
alarm. Our plan for amusing the Manx visitors
had started.

We had collected some forty supers and planted
them on the " tower of refuge." We had ready
a large fishing smack on the opposite side and
this we boarded and were taken out to sea. The
supers, supposed to be Zulus, had been provided
with guns, which at a given signal they fired, at
the same time making a fearful noise with their
war cries. Rockets, squibs and red fire added to
the picture.

Never was there such a hullabaloo in the Isle
of Man, what with the panic and the preliminary
drinks. The trippers thought the end of the
world had come. The police were at their wits'
end to know what to make of it. They suspected
foul play, and running for boats they set out for
the tower to capture the offenders. We had
reckoned for something like this and hence our
selection of a misty night. Of course we were
invisible, for by the time the constables were

140

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

at the tower we were in the sailing boat and were
right out to sea. They could not find out the
ofienders, and it was some hours before the truth
oozed out — all to the good of the show.

The stage methods of getting in a wheeze to
make the audience laugh are infinite. I remember
one in connection with an engagement I was fulfil-
ling in a big English provincial city. I was clowning
in the centre of the ring, and after the lady rider had
completed one of her paper hoop breaking circuits,
I, by previous arrangement, entered into a fierce
altercation with a groom for not holding his hoop
properly. When the altercation was in full blast,
he gave me — or pretended to give me — a heavy
blow, and I fell on the sawdust in an apparent
fit of hysterics.

" Brandy ! " cried the ringmaster, as he rushed
to my assistance. " Brandy ! The poor fellow is
in a fit."

A groom hurried from the ring entrance with a
bottle — ^which, by the way didn't contain the real
stuff — and I seized the bottle and began to drink
feverishly. Then I yelled for " More brandy 1
More brandy ! "

" Very sorry, Walker," said the ringmaster,
soothingly, " but there's no more brandy left."

" No more brandy ? " I cried. " No more
brandy ? Then if there's no more brandy there
are no more fits ! "

Of course, the gag is an old one, and has been
done many times ; but that ringmaster, with quiet
sarcasm always afterwards addressed me as " Mr.
Fitz- Walker ! "

141

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

I was once on a visit to my son, who was appearing
at Ohmy's Circus, then performing at the Court
Theatre at Warrington, and I was strolhng up
the town when I met Harry Leopold, who was my
fellow clown in the Drury Lane pantomime,
" Beauty and the Beast," in 1890. Said he :
" Whimmy, you're the very man I'm looking
for." " Oh, what's up now ? " He told me
that his brother John had gone to Leeds on
some very important legal business, that John
could not appear at the " Court " that night,
and that the manager of the theatre (a Mr.
Potter) had intimated that if he did not appear
the engagement would be cancelled. Would I
take his place and save the situation ? As I was
very much like John — in fact, we were often taken
for twins — the thing might be done, but there was
one objection. I knew nothing about the play.
" What's that to do with it ? All we have to do
with it is to have a rehearsal," said Harry. This
got over the difficulty. I consented. I went
through the business just to see what it was all
about, and at 5 o'clock, Mr. Potter was informed
that John had arrived. The theatre opened, the
show commenced, and I got on all right in the first
act, what with falling about, going up and down
water spouts (the pipes, not the water), etc., to the
delight of the audience. The second act was a
schoolroom scene and in one part I had to hit the
schoolmaster on the head with a tray. I did it so
effectually that I laid him out ; the schoolmaster
acted no more that night, but the audience were
greatly pleased ; they thought it was all in the
show.

142

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

I played the part all through the week, and then
came Saturday night — settling up night. John
had arrived by this time, and went into Mr. Potter's
room to draw his salary. When the money had
been handed over, Mr. Potter said solemnly, " John,
if you had not appeared on Monday night I should
certainly have had to close the theatre, as I never
like to disappoint my audience. Now here are
two returning dates for you." John thanked him
and suggested a glass of wine. They adjourned
to the hotel next to the theatre, with myself and
nearly all the company. When there, John
introduced me to Mr. Potter and told him how he
had been had. Oh, the language that followed !
Mr. Potter raged and stormed in such a fashion
that the proprietor sent for a policeman, who gently
but firmly led him out. Mr. Potter never forgave
either of us.

The mention of Ohmy's Circus brings to my mind
that it was when this circus was at Accrington
my dear old friend Dan Leno had the start in life
which first brought him into fame, though no one
at the time could have foreseen what a wonderful
dramatic career he was destined to have. Everyone
knows that he began as an astonishingly clever
clog dancer. He defeated competitor after com-
petitor, but in a contest for a champion belt, the
referee gave it against him — a notoriously unfair
decision. Dan said nothing, but some little time
later he issued a challenge of £400 to the alleged
champion, which challenge had never been accepted.
The champion made no reply, but contented himself
with buying the belt from the donor for £10 and
conveniently losing it. Dan took no more notice

143

FROM SA\^T)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

of the champion and at a contest which was arranged
between him and another expert he so conclusively
proved his superiority that no one after that
ventured to question his right to be the best clog
dancer in England.

The ways and manners of many of the ladies
who cater for theatrical and other professional
lodgers are sometimes not such as to awaken
much affection for them. I am led to the belief
that they are a race apart, and that they look upon
the professional, whether he be from the theatre,
the music-hall or the circus, as a kind of lemon
to be squeezed dry.

During a visit to the north, two of us were in
lodgings, on the customary understanding that we
provided our own food. We suspected that the
landlady had taken a particular fancy to our
potatoes, which when served were usually very
deficient in number, as cooked, as compared with
the number when raw. Consequently, one morning
before we went out, we decided to count the
potatoes, and afterwards compare the numbers
with those served, when we returned and they
were placed on the dinner table. Accordingly we
took a record of the number of " murphy s," went
to rehearsal, and then returned to dinner. The
potatoes were duly served up — but they had been
mashed ! The landlady knew something !

Here is an illustration of the strange notions
which some Scottish landladies have of English
tastes and customs. When fulfilling an engage-
ment in a well-known Scottish city I went out for
a stroll one afternoon and purchased some water-
cress, which I thought would form a fitting

14 1

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

accompaniment to the cold ham which I was to
have for tea. I sent the watercress by messenger
to my lodgings, which were not far distant, and when
I returned I was amused and astonished to find the
landlady had decorated every small vase in the
room and the china ornaments on the mantelpiece
with the watercress. She evidently imagined it
was a kind of fern !

I believe Charles Dickens once said or wrote
that the ruling passion in the human breast was
the passion of asking for orders for the play.
Anyhow, when people whom I have only met
in the most casual manner unblushingly ask me
to give them passes for any show I may be con-
nected with, I often wonder how they imagine
the manager pays his way. I should like to know
what they would think of a performer who went
into a butcher's shop and asked the butcher for a
joint of beef, or a motor car dealer for a Rolls-
Royce ? It is a curious thing, but I have noticed
that the deadheads or " non-payers " are always
the hardest to please, and the very first to run
the show down. This leads me to something
which occurred in a town up north, where I had
a two hours' wait. I was going into an hotel and
in the passage accidentally knocked down a bill
that evidently had just been stuck up by the
billing man from the local theatre. I took it with
me into the smoke room and read it by a better
light, and found it was a bill of a Shakespearean
company visiting the town on the following week,
and I hung it up on the wall.

While I was so doing the landlord came in and
said he supposed I was the advance agent for the

145

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

company. I felt so flattered that I let him think
so, and extolled the players and the dresses in
my most exuberant and convincing style. His
wife came in and I went all over it again, warming
to the task. Never had anything like it visited
the town ; the artistes were the pick of the London
theatres, playing under assumed names, so as to
account for them not having been heard of before.
The scenery had been designed by Royal
Academicians and painted by the leading scenic
artists, Telbin, Hawes Craven, Bruce Smith, etc.,
while the ladies' dresses came straight from the
Rue de la Paix. I was in my glory ; I commenced
to believe it myself. Thousands had been spent
on the production, and so on and so on. The
other customers commenced to sit up and take
notice, and the climax I'd been working up to
arrived. Could I give the landlord and his wife
and daughter a pass for early closing night?
That did it. I wrote them a pass " Admit three.
Box B, Thursday night," and signed myself
" Hookey Walker." Then the customers jumped
at the chance ; they all had a go at me ; I gave
them passes signed with different names. I felt
I'd done my best, so I caught my train to Leeds,
where I was playing the following week. I have
often wondered what happened to those people
when they turned up at the theatre on early
closing night, the best night of the week, with
the bogus passes !

Not infrequently approaches are made to the
simple-minded " pro " through the ready method
of " standing treat," and really I've had foolish
people spend more money in this way than the

146

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

seat would cost. Once, however, the boot was
on the other leg. I was having a glass at my
own expense when an insinuating person entered
into conversation which I made sure was going
to lead up to the usual request, especially as from
one or two words he let fall — he evidently took
me for an agent in advance. He was so excessively
complimentary and flattering that I could hardly
do less than ask him to join me in a drink, and
he accepted my invitation at once. After he'd
drained his glass he enquired " Are you having
another ? " I was ; whereupon he remarked
calmly : " All right then, I'll wait outside for
you." His impudence so took me aback that I
didn't know whether to be angry or amused.

Some of the oddest things happen in connection
with the advertisements which enterprising firms
arrange to have introduced into the pantomime.
It generally falls to the lot of the unhappy clown
to have to engineer the introduction. Sometimes
they get directly or indirectly a small remunera-
tion. Sometimes they don't. Once when I was
with Hengler's in the provinces, Mr. Powell, the
circus manager, told me that a Liverpool firm
wanted their " beautiful two-shilling tea " brought
in somehow, and that they would make it worth
my while if I could do it. I did do it — for all
it was worth and perhap"> more. But the firm
were silent over my recompense, and chancing
to be near Liverpool, I called at the shop, which
was a kind of universal store, and saw the manager
on the matter.

In those days I prided myself on my swagger
tailoring, and especially on my tall silk hat, which

147

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

was always of the best and glossiest, and the
manager, after listening to my representations,
offered me and the member of the company who
was with me two of the cheapest and commonest
bowler hats they had in stock. We walked out
of the shop, leaving the hats behind us. That
night and for several other nights I had my
revenge. I introduced my packet of the " beautiful
two-shilling tea," and after a suitable wheeze
opened the packet and poured out the contents —
sawdust ! I don't think the firm was pleased.

Another experience was of a different kind.
The article to be advertised was somebody's tinned
curried chicken and rabbit, and to stimulate my
imagination, I suppose, they sent me samples,
which I needn't say I tasted, and found very good.
Accompanying my samples was a quantity of
other tins exactly similar and having the letter
*' D " marked on the outside. The Israelites got
tired of quails, and I began to tire of curried
chicken and rabbit, so I turned the lot over to the
property master, who picked out one and was
perfectly satisfied. But, like me, he did not care
for curry every day, so he distributed the rest
among the stage hands, who were only too pleased
at the prospect of a dainty supper for once. But
delight turned to rage when they opened their
tins. They were all dummies and this was what
the letter " D " stood for ! They went for the
property master, who they thought had sold
them. But the poor man was blameless. He
had by the merest chance picked out a genuine
tin.

A droll business was that of the much advertised

148

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Harness electric belt. It was believed to be a
fraud, and time showed that this belief was
justified. As people were talking about the
exposure it seemed to be a good subject for
burlesque, and I worked out something. I solemnly
told the audience that my donkey's surcingle
(the girth that went round his body) was electrified,
and attaching a rope to it with a bell at the sur-
cingle end I pattered a lot about electricity being
life, and invited anyone who wanted a shock to
step upon the stage.

First one and then another obliged me, and
soon there was quite a queue all holding the rope.
I asked them to pull. The bell rang, but nothing
else happened. They looked very blank and
I pretended to be much surprised. " What — no
shock ? " said I. They shook their heads.
" Strange ! " I murmured. " Try again." They
did try, but no shock followed. I scratched my
chin as if much puzzled. " Try once more. There
ought to be a shock, you know." Evidently the
queue thought so too, and they made another
effort. " Oh well," I exclaimed despairingly, " if
that's the case it's no use going on any longer.
I'm much obliged to you gentlemen for your kind
assistance, but you see how it is." They dropped
the rope, looking much disappointed, and were
about to file down to their seats when a con-
federate among the little crowd indignantly
demanded to know what I had been up to ? " Oh,"
said I carelessly, " I only wanted to know how
many fools I could draw to the donkey's Harness
belt." The fun was seized upon instantly and the
audience shook with laughter. I don't know

149

FROM SAAVDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

whether those who had been taken in liked
the joke or not. But this was of no con-
sequence.

When I was engaged at the Cirque Nouveau
in the Rue Honore, Paris, I was the victim of
excess of zeal. In Spain I found I was able to
overcome the difficulties of the language by making
myself master of four or five words. I could say
" good-day, " good-night," " sing " (this was to
my donkey), " wine " (I needn't mention how
useful this word was) ; this was all, but it sufficed.
The Spaniards said I spoke Spanish like a native
— but this might have been out of politeness.
Recollecting my linguistical success in Madrid, I
thought I would try to do the same thing in Paris.
I employed a French schoolmaster to teach me.
I hadn't too much time in which to acquire pro-
ficienc}^ and I set to work to cram myself, especially
with the French equivalents of the various wheezes
which went down well in England. It was all
a job and meant two or three sleepless nights.
However, at the end I was under the im-
pression I spoke French like a Parisian, and
I proudly displayed my accomplishments in
the ring.

Somehow the audience did not seem to laugh
so heartily as I expected, and at the end of my
show the manager sent for me. " What the deuce
(or a word to that effect) did you mean by talking
French ? " he demanded angrily. I explained
my reasons and represented how hard I had
studied. " Hang it," was his reply, " didn't I
engage you as an English clown ? " The people
who came to see you were nearly all English and

150

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

American, and you do nothing but talk French.
They don't . understand a word you're saying."
I admitted that this might be so and for the future
I went back to my Cockney tongue, doubtless
to everybody's relief. But I was rather upset at
having wasted my energies.

151

CHAPTER XIII

American notes. A bogus boxing match. Dispersed by hose-
pipe. Jem Mace and Joe Goss, I second Mace and get the worst
of it. Queer American law. Washed away on Coney Island.
An insulted Irishman. How I started " Sequah " in business.
Daring robbery of my presentation watch and chain. Curious
coincidences. Terrible death of a Barnum acrobat. I go to
America with Charlie Chaplin. An unlucky tour. The company
collapse in Seattle. The discomforts of a Seattle hospital. I
return to England. An unexpected shower bath. Chased by a
hippopotamus.

Not a few odd things happened to me in America.
I have already mentioned some. One of the tours
in the States opened at Maddison Square Gardens
for six weeks and we gave up one night for a boxing
match between John L. SulUvan and Tug Wilson.
Of course we had a holiday that night and we all
went to see this fight. It was a bit of a farce.
Tug Wilson only had to go through four rounds,
and every time that Sullivan was going to hit
him with the glove he fell down.

After the four rounds there was a fearful hubbub,
the audience seeing that it was a planned thing.
Fights and scrambles were going on all over the
place and I was helpless against the crowd and
had to go with it. I was lifted off my legs and

152

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

somehow I was forced into the boxers' dressing
room with Tug Wilson's manager. He had with
him a Httle black bag with the dollars in it and
we at once barricaded the door the best way we
could. Outside the mob were shouting " Open
the door ! We want our money back ! "

The manager could not see his way to do this
and we remained prisoners until somebody outside
suggested the hose-pipe ! A dozen willing hands
went to work. They made a big hole in the wall
in less than no time, put the hose- pipe on us, and
the next minute we were swamped. The water
was nearly up to our waists till the police came
and gave us our liberty. I believe Tug Wilson
took 5,000 dollars back to Birmingham.

Another episode connected with boxing matches
happened to me also in New York. Howes and
Cushing's Circus had a piece of ground in 14th
Street, right opposite Tony Pastor's, and here they
engaged Jem Mace and Joe Goss to give sparring
exhibitions afternoon and evening. I, being the
English clown, had to second Jem Mace — my pal
the other clown, an American, Teddy Almonte,
seconded Joe Goss. The champions set to and
Jem Mace showed his usual cleverness with his
head in avoiding his antagonist's blows. Once
he made a rapid duck and I caught the glove
in my face. It was a lovely little tap — it didn't
hurt me, but the blood began to run down my nose
and I fell on my back about three or four feet
away. Of course it was a big success with the
audience, but not with me, so I hopped it out
of the ring and went into my dressing room.
Presently the pugilistic gentlemen came in. I

153 L

FROM SA\^T)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

had my handkerchief to my nose and said to
Jem Mace :

" Take this iron steak and hit him on the head
with it."

He said, " What for ? "

I said, " See what he's done : surely you'll
take my part."

And all that I got from Jem Mace was :

" Keep your eyes open in future."

That finished my career as a second.

The law as it is in America struck me as peculiar.
I remember that on one occasion a nail in one of
the seats of the circus got attached to a portion
of one of our patron's clothing. He claimed a new
pair. I was sent with the man to a lawyer to
estimate the damage — it struck me at the time a
tailor would have been a better man for the job.
However, we reached the office and the lawyer
induced the man to take three dollars and leave
the old pair of trousers. First he signed a document
to that effect and after it was duly signed the man
held his hand out for payment. But the lawyer
said he must first hand over the torn pair. By the
time the man had gone home to change his garments
the circus had moved to the next town, together
with the man's three dollars.

I was once at Coney Island — the Brighton of
America — with the Mexican Circus there, run by
the Brothers Carlo. We pitched on the sands
and had a good deal of difficulty in erecting the
booths as the sand there is so soft. We slept at
the wooden shanty, dignified by the name of hotel,
and one morning we awoke to find the circus and
paraphernalia gone ! In the middle of the night

154

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

the tide had risen higher than usual and took
the lot away. That was the end of the circus at
Coney Island.

I have already mentioned the Leopolds. They
were of Irish extraction and their real name was
Kelly. John, who was my fellow clown at Drury
Lane, and who was so like me that I was once able
to play for him and get him out of a scrape, was
touring with his brother Willie at Warrington,
in the United States ; and when staying in New
York paid a visit to the poorer quarters of the city,
where the people were mostly negroes. They were
very much amused at the antics of some little
black children who were playing about in the
street, and Willie Leopold suggested to John
that it would be a great novelty to take one of the
little .niggers back to England and put it into a
comic act, as no one had hitherto thought of doing
this, although it was successfully done by several
people afterwards. John agreed, and they were just
wondering how they should approach the parents
and what it would cost to take them over, when a
black woman opened a window and putting her
head out cried, " Come inside, you naughty
piccaninnies, playin' out there in the gutter.
Folks'll fink yo's Irish ! " I can still see the look
of indignation which went over John's great fat
good-tempered face when he told me of the insult
to his country.

One day in New York I was standing near the
entrance to Barnum's Circus when a seedy-looking
man strolled up to me and without any preface
said " Will you lend me five dollars ? I'll give them
back to you after the performance." The coolness

155

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

of the request was startling, for the fellow was a
total stranger. But there must have been some
sort of magnetism about him, for before I knew
what I was doing I drew out of my pocket all I
had — two dollars and a half — and handed them over.
The man thanked me and went away, and I said
good-bye to my money.

The performance was a matinee and some time
after it was over I was leaving the show when I
saw my friend the borrower, who was waiting for
me. " Another loan," I thought, but no. He pulled
out a handful of silver and proffered me five dollars
in return for my two and a half. " How on earth
did you get that money ? " said I. " Well, with
your two and a half dollars I bought some soap
and flour and had them made up into pills right
away. They were warranted to cure any ailment
under the sun, you bet," said he, with a wink.
" When the crowd came out of the circus I pitched
in a likely spot, did a bit of patter and sold the
pills like buttered doughnuts." We parted, years
went on, and while I was at Drury Lane I was told
that someone wanted to see me. I went to the
stage door and saw a well-dressed man, frock coat,
silk hat, and all the rest of it. " You don't
remember me, I guess," said he. " I certainly
don't," was my answer. " Well, you once lent me
two dollars and a half in New York, and that gave
me a start. I am Sequah." So I suppose I may
boast that in a way I laid the foundation stone of the
quack doctor's fortune.

I recollect Joe Goss in another connection. Mr
Bailey, who ran the Barnum show after Mr.
Barnum's death, presented me with a gold watch

156

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

and chain which had once belonged to the famous
fighter. The chain was a very massive one and
said to be the handsomest ever manufactured.
Years after, when I was playing in a pantomime at
Drury Lane, I was robbed of both in a very ingenious
and systematic way. The rehearsal one day had
been particularly long and fatiguing and when I
came out of the theatre I was dead beat. I went to
my nephew's lodgings, not far from Drury Lane,
for a rest and a sleep, as I had another rehearsal
at eight o'clock that night. I told my nephew to
wake me at seven o'clock, but to be doubly
sure I set the alarm clock at that hour. Then
taking off my watch and chain and rings, I
placed them near the pillow and threw myself
on the bed.

I slept so soundly that I never heard the alarm
and my nephew did not come. It was half past
seven when I awoke, and quite dark. I turned up
the light and looked for my watch and chain. Both
were gone and my rings and everything. Thieves
had found their way to the room. It turned out
that my nephew had gone out to give his little dog
a run and had been waylaid by the gang, enticed
to drink, and detained while their confederates
robbed me. I had been watched for days most
probably, and my habits noted. When I got to the
theatre and told my boss, I wasn't believed. It
was all " cod " and so on. Of course I went to the
police. Three detectives were put on the job, but
their efforts came to nothing. I never saw my
presentation watch and chain any more.

It may be mentioned as a singular coincidence
that Edward Giovanelli, a noted clown in the

157

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

'fifties, lost a watch and a medallion in much the
same fashion — that is to say he was watched
previous to the robbery. His watch was also a
presentation one and was given to him by his
nephews the Leopolds. A dog also figured in the
robbery, which took place in the street.

Just one more watch coincidence, which came
about through a tour in America. While at the
Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia I ran across
a young man named Arthur Pitt, whose father, an
innkeeper at Barnsley, I knew very well. Arthur
was a professional runner and when I met him he
was terribly hard up, and I bought his watch, the
gift of his father, for fifty dollars. Some years
later, when I was with Hengler's Circus at
Scarborough, and chanced to go into the " Silver
Grid " Hotel, who should be there but Sarn Pitt,
Arthur's father, and while having a drink I chanced
to take out my watch, and he no sooner caught sight
of it than he exclaimed " Why, that's my son's
watch." I told him how I became possessed of it
and he bought it on the spot and insisted upon
giving me £20.

Those attached to travelling circuses are bound
to have ups and downs, and I have had a few, but
nothing so terrible as on a certain night when
Barnum's menagerie train stopped at a western
station and was shunted into a siding for the night.
This was not an uncommon experience, and as we
were provided with sleeping accommodation we were
comfortable enough as a rule. On this occasion
the siding was very close to the main track — in
fact only just wide enough to allow a train to pass
without touching our cars. One of our party, a

158

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

young acrobat, had gone to get some beer, and when
coming back was caught in this narrow space by a
goods train, which he either did not see or was not
quick enough to avoid. In an instant he was spun
round hke a top and was hterally cut to pieces. It
was an awful sight.

It was on my ninth visit to America that I went
out with CharUe Chaphn, about whom I shall have
something to say later on. It came about in
this way. I was on my beam ends — nothing to do —
just lost my savings in a bad speculation, and
absolutely broke to the world. I was in London
looking for work and I met a friend who invited me
to have some refreshment with him, so we went
into an hotel, where we found Charlie Chaplin,
Arthur Reeves, Charlie Baldwin (who wrote my
sketch, " Captain Hamilton, V.C.") and two or three
others. One of the party hailed me. " Whimmy,"
said he, " we were just talking about you. How
would you like to go to America ? We sail to-
morrow morning." " What's the business ? " I
asked. " Fred Karno's sending the ' Wow Wows '
(one of Karno's burlesque companies) with Charlie
Chaplin. Will you come with us and play a part ?"
" What about the salary ? " was my natural
query. We discussed this important matter and
eventually settled terms, but it was absolutely the
lowest salary I ever had for forty years. Still,
I was glad to take it, and went into the billiard
room and signed the contract. We left Waterloo
station early next morning and were off to America.
We arrived at New York to find that New York
had greatly altered. In fact it was a new America,
I had been there eight previous times, but it was a

159

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

new world to me, everybody and everything had
altered so much.

We found we were up against great opposition.
The caterers for amusement had increased and
multiplied since my previous visit. The taste had
changed and novelties had been introduced to
suit the jaded palates of the excitement-seeking
Americans. We were on the Sullivan circuit and
at each town we had opposition at the other theatres
— Sarah Bernhardt at one theatre and Mrs. Langtry
at the other — until we got right up to San Francisco.
We then went on to Bute, 2,000 feet above the sea,
and when we arrived there we found out that the
theatre at which we had arranged to appear had
been burnt down. Ill luck seemed bent upon
pursuing us. However, our manager engaged a
large hall and we opened. Most of the population
were miners, diggers, etc., and a very rough lot
too. It was the roughest place I have ever been into.
The climate, the hard travelling and the living
didn't suit any of us, and the company began to
feel very bad. The ladies lost their voices — the
gentlemen could hardly work, and some of them,
including myself, began bleeding at the nose. This
rather frightened some of us, and to make matters
worse we could not get any quinine at the drug
stores. Possibly we had influenza very badly.

We were glad enough to be free from the town
and we travelled on to Seattle, the starting point
for the Klondyke region. It was a very long journey
and raining hard all the while. I became so bad
that I thought my time had come. I went to my
hotel, but could not sleep or rest a bit. I got up
early the next morning and saw Mr. Alf Reeves,

160

Whimsical ^ alker as "The Single Gentleman " in Hepworth's
Film, " The Old (iuriosity Shop "

Whimsical Walker and the Driiry Lane Harlequinade entertainino

the Lord and Lady Mayoress and children at the

Mansion House, London, in aid of the

Blind Children of London

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

he being the manager of the show, told him my
condition, and he sent me to Dr. Bourne, a very
clever theatrical doctor. I saw the doctor the next
morning and the first words he said were, "You
have got erysipelas in the face. I must send you
to the fever hospital immediately. It is contagious.'*
He 'phoned, the ambulance was at the door in less
than ten minutes, and I was on my way to the
hospital, some three miles out of Seattle and an
awful wooden shanty.

It was Christmas time and my Christmas dinner
consisted of a glass of milk. I was put to bed and
the first thing the doctor said to me was, " I
must cut your hair." Well, he started on the job^
lost his nerve, didn't cut it, but pulled it out. I
said, *' That will do," and I wouldn't let him do
any more. The next step was to tar my face and
put wool on it. I guess I looked an awful sight.

I stopped in the hospital for about a week and
when the doctor came in from Seattle I told him
that if I remained another day I should die.
Perhaps he saw that, for the ambulance was brought
and I was taken to the city hospital in Seattle,
and I was there for nearly three months. They
absolutely starved me, a new and unpleasant
experience for an old hard-up English actor used
to good living. The upshot of the business was
that my manager said the best thing I could do
was to get home.

So I went on to San Francisco, from there to
Santiago, and thence to Salt Lake City, one of the
prettiest and cleanest cities in America, the streets
built so that the water flows all day and night
down the gutters. From there to New York,

161

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

caught the Oceanic, arrived safe and sound at
Liverpool, and came on to London to my wife. She
was greatly surprised to see me as she had never
heard from me for months ; they had never sent
a word from the hospital I She was beginning to
think I was dead.

I don't know why my starting for America and
my return to my native shore should so often be
celebrated by larky rejoicings. I can understand
my friends being glad to see me safe and sound
after my travels, but I do not quite fathom their
delight at my going away. However, there it is.
I was once coming from New York and arrived in
Liverpool the night before the Grand National,
intending to put up at the " Bee " Hotel, the
proprietor of which was a great friend of mine for
many years — Tom Bush. We reached the hotel
and the man at the door said, " Very sorry, sir,
we are full up." Mr. Bush was fetched and he was
awfully pleased to see me, but he could not put me
up — in fact he had to go out of his own hotel to
sleep, the place was so full of bookmakers and
jockeys. But he saw that I was determined to
stop, so he placed a board on the top of the bath
and with a mattress and a blanket I decided I
should be all right. After supper I was introduced
to the racing fraternity. I found I was a sort of
god with them and I did my best to entertain them
with funny tales. About 4 a.m. I left them and
reached my bath bedroom. I woke up about 7
o'clock dying for a soda and milk. I saw something
dangling and thinking it was the bell I pulled it,
but instead of the bell it was the shower. The
quickest thing I ever did in my life was to get out

162

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

of that bed. And everyone swore that I did it
purposely !

In the March following I returned to America.
I went down to Prince's Pier and boarded the
boat with everyone wishing me hon voyage. It
then occurred to me I'd do something funny to
mark the occasion, so I went down to my stateroom,
opened the porthole, and squeezed my head through
it, making grimaces at my friends as the steamer
was just going out of the Mersey. To my horror I
could not get my head back ! I don't know exactly
what I thought, but among other things was that
I might have to die with my head through the
porthole ! Perhaps the boat would have to be cut
in half to get my head out. I shouted, the bedroom
steward arrived, and with a spoon he got my ears
down, and somehow I squeezed myself back to
the world.

I had not been twenty -four hours in New York
before my nerves were again shaken. We opened
at Madison Square Gardens and I had brought over
some beautiful clown's dresses made of satin, for
the three ring show. It was just dusk and I was
taking all my lovely dresses in a big white bundle
across the first ring and decided that by climbing
over the ring fence I should save something like
a quarter of a mile. I was just over the ring fence
and had made about three strides when I heard
something grunt at the back of me. I turned
round. I could see a huge animal after me — it was
the hippopotamus ! I took to my heels and ran as
hard as I could, thinking my next moment would be
my last, caught my foot against the other side of
the ring fence and went sprawling with all my

163

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

beautiful dresses scattered in every direction. I
shouted out and George Hawkinstall, the master
of the animals, came to my assistance, screaming
with laughter. He told me that he had never
seen anything so comical, me sprawling on the
ground and the huge beast with his cavern of a
mouth wide open in wonderment. " He wouldn't
hurt you," was George's consoling remark. " He
only thought that white bundle of yours was
bread. He's awfully fond of bread."

1C4

CHAPTER XIV

My second visit to Australia. I train a performing horse on
board. Am engaged by Harry Rickards for a twenty-seven weeks'
tour. I play for five nights only. Summoned to London by Mr.
Arthur Collins owing to the death of Herbert Campbell. Mr.
Rickards' luxurious home. I bathe with sharks. I escort two
wallabies to England. A strange meeting at Colombo. I
arrive in London. Death of Dan Leno. Dan's merry pranks.
His unlucky garden party.

I HAVE already alluded to my first visit to Australia.
This was in the early 'eighties. Some twenty years
had passed when I went for the second time to
the Antipodes. I was engaged by the late Harry
Rickards, proprietor of several theatres and music
halls in Australia, to undertake a tour which was
to last twenty- seven weeks.

I looked forward to seeing once more the towns
with which I had already become acquainted,
and I set out from Tilbury Docks in one of the
steamers of the Blue Anchor Line called Wilcania.

The voyage was somewhat tedious. The boat
could hardly get up speed enough to race a tug,
and on reaching Sydney she came to an untimely
end running ashore on the rocks in the harbour.

165

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

At least that was the last I saw of her. I am
glad to say that before this happened I was
safely landed.

Slow as the travelling was, I found something
to employ my time and that something was
fortunately quite in my line. On board was a
beautiful horse called " Pistol." He was being
sent to Adelaide for stud purposes, his ultimate
destination being Perth. A more symmetrical
and intelligent animal I have never set eyes on.
We were immense friends at once and I set to work
to train him to perform a number of tricks.

As the weather was fairly fine and the passage
tolerably smooth, I was able to give him two or
three lessons every day. Under my tuition he
soon became proficient and his performances gave
great delight to the passengers.

Among other things I taught him to take my
hat from my head, to say " yes " and " no " —
in signs of course — etc. By the time we reached
Cape Town, " Pistol " was able to ring a bell
for his breakfast, to laugh by showing his teeth,
and to lie down and sit up at the word of command.
We gradually became much attached to each
other, and when we arrived at Adelaide and we
had to part company, I believe he was as sorry
as I was. I went with him to the stables on shore,
where we bade each other farewell, and he looked
quite sorrowfully at me.

The steamer had two other horses on board —
big clumsily-built Clydesdales. I did not attempt
to do anything with them. They were not of the
kind of which trick horses are made and they
were very vicious into the bargain. They were

166

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

kept in separate boxes and did not, I fancy, take
very kindly to sea life.

I returned to the ship and went on to Melbourne.
We stopped there one day and I took the oppor-
tunity of going to the post office to see if any
letters had arrived for me overland via Marseilles.
To my great surprise I found a cablegram awaiting
me from Drury Lane Theatre. " Return. Arthur
Colhns," it said. It took me quite aback and
I did not know in the least what to think of it.
Here was I in Australia, thousands of miles from
home, bound by a contract to stay a certain time
and make a little money, and Arthur Collins'
message fairly bewildered me. All the same it
had to be replied to in some shape or form. I
returned to the ship and went on to Sydney, but
I could get no sleep as I was worrying about the
cablegram. Nightmares pursued me that perhaps
I had committed some awful crime — or the police
were after me !

I reached Sydney one evening in September
and the lovely panorama of the harbour and its
surroundings presented a sight I haven't forgotten
to this day. The ship anchored a mile and a half
from the city and when I landed who should be
waiting for me but Harry Rickards with a
brougham and a pair of beautiful horses. He
drove me to my hotel and as I went along I saw
poster after poster with " Whimsical Walker "
in the biggest type procurable. My word, he had
advertised me ! In fact too much, I began to
think, with the cablegram from Drury Lane at
the back of my mind.

I must say Harry treated me like a prince.

167

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

At night he took me to the National Sporting
Club to a Press supper, which I should have
enjoyed more if that confounded cablegram had
not been worrying me all the time. Just before
we left the club I plucked up courage and showed
Mr. Rickards the message. He read it and said,
*' Well, what are you going to do ? "

I told him that to cable to me from England
meant something very important and that I
couldn't afford to neglect it, and that I had made
up my mind to sail away with the next boat.
Of course he was very much annoyed and he
threatened to bring an action against me if I did
so. I said, " Bring the action against the Drury
Lane Company." " I haven't engaged the Drury
Lane Company, I've engaged you," he retorted.
He was, of course, perfectly right, and after we'd
finished up at the club he said, " Come to my
office in the morning at eleven o'clock and we'll
talk it over."

Next morning I kept the appointment. Mr.
Rickards was smiling, and said he : " Well, Whimmy,
have you made up your mind ? "

" Yes," said I, " I'm returning home on Saturday
week."

His reply was that it was very unbusinesslike
and meant a loss, seeing what it had cost him to
advertise me. Presently he went on to say :
" Anyway you're here, and you don't sail till
Saturday week, will you show to my patrons for
five nights and two matinees ? If you'll do that
you can catch the boat on the Saturday week."

I thought it very good of him, so I consented,
and we shook hands on the bargain and walked

168

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

back to the National Sporting Club. There a
newspaper was put into my hand and I saw in it
to my great sorrow of the death of poor Herbert
Campbell, my associate in many a Drury Lane
pantomime. Then I knew the meaning of Mr.
Arthur Collins' cablegram.

Well, I had a jolly time of it — Mr. Rickards
would have me stay at his beautifully fitted
house as long as I was in Melbourne. Among
other luxuries he had a bathroom built inside
the harbour with sea water flowing through the
bath all the time. In front of this bath was a
steel lattice and occasionally one could enjoy the
spectacle of hungry sharks watching and waiting
for the meal they were destined never to enjoy.
The sight gave me an uncommon zest for my swim,
knowing they could not get at me.

For five nights and two matinees I played,
together with Louise Carbasse, a talented child
actress, in a comedy sketch, " Captain Hamilton,
V.C.," written by Charles Baldwin. The sketch
had a touch of pathos in it and went down well
with my Melbourne audience. I wound up with
" The Mad Fisherman," a pantomime absurdity
in which I appeared alone.

Spending only five days in Melbourne I hadn't
much time to notice what changes had taken place
since I had first visited the city. Of more import-
ance to me was to ascertain if my " turn " had
gone well with the audience and what the Press
had to say about it. So far as the Melbourne
public are concerned I had made a hit and I
enquired of Mr. Rickards if the papers had
commented at all. We were at the National

169 M

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Sporting Club at the time and Mr. Rickards, taking
up a periodical called Truth and pointing out a
certain passage said : " Have you seen that ? "
This was what I read : " We hear that Whimsical
Walker is sailing for England on Saturday. It
is a good job. If he had stopped in this country
we'd have shot him ! " I put down the paper
somewhat staggered. " What on earth for ? What
have I done ? " I asked. " Don't be alarmed,
my dear chap," said Rickards. " That's nothing
to what the fellow says about me.''' Then he
pointed to the lady at the buffet, remarking :
*' She horsewhipped him for his scurrilous writings
about her. She's English and ever since his
castigation he never loses a chance of saying some-
thing nasty about England and the English. No
one takes any notice of him." That being the case
I didn't think it worth while to take any notice
either.

Rickards was one of the best of fellows. He
had been a comic vocalist in England in the
'seventies. Many old music-halls patrons of those
days may perhaps remember the song which made
him popular. It ran, " His lordship winked at the
counsel and the counsel winked at the judge."
He made more money out of his singing than he did
by a music-hall venture at Plymouth. This broke
him ; he became bankrupt and he left for Australia
heavily in debt. However, after he had made
a fortune in Melbourne and Sydney he paid every
one in full. Like many in the theatrical profession
he was a bit superstitious. His theatre in Sydney
was burnt down and it so happened that on that
particular night one of the musical selections

170

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

given was Tosti's song " Good-bye." After that
he forbade this song being given at any of his
theatres. He need not have been so weak-minded.
Such a thing wasn't hkely to occur again.

Just before I started, Mr. Bland Holt, proprietor
of the Theatre Royal, Sydney, and a great friend
of Mr. Arthur Collins, hearing I was going to Drury
Lane, came to me and asked if I would do him a
favour by taking a present to Mr. Collins in the
shape of two little rock wallabies — a small species
of kangaroo. I agreed and he brought them on
board in a cage. They were amiable, playful
little creatures and became the pets of all the
passengers. I was very fortunate in eventually
handing them over in good condition to Mr. Collins,
as they are very delicate animals and rarely survive
the voyage. Mr. Collins was delighted with them
and I believe they were ultimately presented to
the Zoo.

I took passage in the R.M.S. Orior and we left
Sydney harbour on the 11th October, after quite
a new experience, namely, travelling 8,000 miles or
so to play for five nights only !

On the journey I had one or two experiences.
Coming through the bight off Fremantle, where on
my previous visit to Australia, we had, owing to
the rough sea, to throw some of the animals over-
board to save the ship, we found no improvement
in the behaviour of the w aves and as a consequence
the steamer had to go direct to Colombo instead
of putting in at Fremantle.

At Colombo — a lovely place — beautiful atmos-
phere and such pretty dear little children — a funny
thing occurred. I was walking along the jetty

171

FROM SAWT3UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

saying to myself, " Thank goodness, no one will
recognise me here " — at Melbourne I was stopped
every few yards wherever I went — when, as I was
passing the Bristol Hotel, I heard someone shout,
" Hello, Whimmy, what the deuce are you doing
here ? " Then came another personal enquiry as
to whether I'd brought my red-hot poker with me,
and a third warned me that there were no panto-
mimes in Colombo.

I had run across some members of Bannerman's
Opera Company. They had been playing for three
nights in Colombo and were going on to India.
Such surprise meetings are of course common
enough in England at railway junctions — Derby
especially — on Sundays, the travelling day for
touring companies, and very pleasant they are.
Friends in the profession who've not met for years
come across each other, renew their friendships
over the cheerful glass — if the restrictions permit —
and part not to meet again for years more — perhaps
never. I was used to this sort of thing in the old
country, but to have such a meeting in Colombo
nearly took away my breath. All I can say is
that we had a high old time.

Passing through the Suez canal it was the turn
of the sailors. Jack ashore is always out for a lark.
Our men started with the donkeys, which they rode
in their own style and ended by having a row
with some Arabs. The result of the shindy was
the pitching of several of the natives into the
water. After that leave was stopped and
they had to console themselves with concerts
on board, games, boxing matches, etc. It was
all great fun.

172

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

At last I arrived in London and the first news I
heard was that my dear old pal Dan Leno was dead.
He not long survived his close comrade Herbert
Campbell. It was a sad blow to think that these
two splendid humorists, who had played into
each other's hands at old Drury to the delight
of thousands, would never be seen again. To me
the loss could not be made good. I had acted with
them in the Drury Lane pantomimes for so long
that when I appeared on the boards I felt a blank
which I can hardly describe.

Apart from stage associations I had many a
merry moment with Dan. He was always bubbling
over with humour. Once I remember, coming with
him from rehearsal, strolling down the Strand
to the " Marble Halls " — the favourite name of the
restaurant adjoining the Adelphi Theatre. The
Hotel Cecil was then being built and as we passed
it Dan suggested we should stand treat to the
bricklayers. Away we went across the road, and
when Dan asked the fellows if they would like
a drink their smiles reached from ear to ear.

*' All right, boys," said he, " come along," and
followed by a little crowd in their plaster and mud,
he took them to the " Marble Halls." The porter
in his gorgeous livery looked horrified. Dan
protested. People stopped to see what was the
matter.

" They won't allow the hard-working British
man to have a drink," he exclaimed indignantly.
A policeman interfered — and we all had to " pass
along." I suspected Dan had some little game in
his head, but did not know what it was. However,
we went on to the " Queen's Head," the landlord

173

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

of which was a friend of us botli. This hostelry
was provided with numerous partitions, all of which
were soon crowded.

" Give all these dear good hard-working men
two pennyworth of port wine each," called out
Dan. The men looked down their noses and
growled out that they wanted beer. Dan pre-
tended to show great surprise, but in the end
paid for as much as they could drink. He had
had his joke and was satisfied.

There never was a man fonder of children than
Dan was. It is on record that the day before he
took to his bed in his last illness he visited the
Belgravia Hospital for Children at Kennington,
went over the institution and left a liberal
donation. One beautiful day in August I chanced
to meet him. " You're just the boy I want,
Whimmy. I'm giving a children's party to-morrow
— about 300 — and their fathers and mothers are
coming to tea. Be at my place in the morning."

Dan lived at Clapham Park and I went down
and helped him to put up coloured lamps for the
illumination at night. There were also to be
fireworks, over which he had spent some £40.
These were stored in a little outhouse. But long
before night came there was an impromptu display.
While we were hanging the lamps we heard an
explosion and saw all the fireworks going up in
the air. One of his children had somehow managed
to set fire to the lot. But no one was hurt. Dan
wasn't a bit upset.

This was not the end of Dan's misfortunes.
The children poured in and so did the parents ;
the band played on the lawn, some played cricket,

174

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

danced and so on, and then the time came to
hght the lamps. Alas ! The sun and the hot
air — it was a blazing day — had melted the little
candles inside. No fireworks — no illumination.
There still remained the magic lantern show which
had been prepared. This surely should go without
any mishap. Oh dear, no. A quarrel sprang up
between some boys behind the screen as to who
should manage the show. A fight followed and
down came the sheet. There was no exhibition
and it was difficult to say who was the more
disappointed — Dan or the children.

This ought to have been sufficient for the day,
but it wasn't. A final disaster affecting me
personally was yet to come. It was 5 a.m. when
I left, and as no conveyance was possible I started
to walk to town, Dan going with me. It so
happened that I was wearing a new pair of patent
leather boots, and these having been in the sun
all day soon became intolerable, so I took them off
and we both sat down on a road-side seat. Presently
a milk cart came along and this we stopped and
arranged with the driver to give us a lift. I put
the boots near the cans and was fairly comfortable.
We reached Brixton police station and I looked
for my boots. They had vanished — jogged off
the cart without my seeing them go. I waited
at a coffee stall until the trams began to run and
finished the rest of the journey in my stockinged
feet. And this was the end of Dan Leno's garden
party !

Like the rest of us, Dan could never resist a
chance of a practical joke. I had been promised
an Irish terrier puppy by a breeder at Levenshulme,

175

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

near Manchester. I had been out all day and when
I reached home I found Dan there and that the
dog had arrived in a box. Dan was frightfully-
indignant and put the blame on me of treating
it cruelly — not having even given it a drop of
water. It was in vain for me to protest ; he told
me the R.S.P.C.A. ought to be informed. I was
surprised he had not let the dog out, so I drew
the nails from the box and put my hand inside
to take out the puppy. To my consternation it
was stone cold. " I'm afraid it's dead, Dan,"
I whispered. Then I pulled out the dead animal
and found it was a pantomime dog wKich he had
got from the theatre property room ! My own
dog he had dispatched to his own house. Poor
Dan was full of pranks.

176

CHAPTER XV

Managers and actors I have known. P. T. Barnum. A wonder-
ful organiser. How a big circus travels. Barnum's considera-
tion for his company. His little speeches. General TomThumb.
Signor toli and Frank Celli. Sir Augustus Harris a born show-
man. The elder Harris and his glossy hat. The value of an
advertisement. My " benefit " at Drury Lane and why it was
a frost. I miss my chance in the Drury Lane Pantomime,
1890-91, " Beauty and the Beast." An unrehearsed incident.
I play " Mercury " in " Venus." I am " Hamlet " at
Richardson's show in the Olympic Carnival. A Scottish
" Ghost." A new view of " Hamlet."

Looking back and reviving old memories is to
most of us a task of mingled pleasure and pain.
It is especially so to me, when I think of the many
bright souls, now passed away, who in their career
as " servants of the public " did so much to gladden
the hearts of others. I have in other chapters,
as opportunity served, alluded to members of the
theatrical and circus profession more or less
notable with whom I have been associated ; and
I now propose to add a few more personal recol-
lections of some of these, together with what I
recall of episodes connected with others. Un-
fortunately, I am compelled to rely solely upon
my memory, as valuable material committed to
paper was together with my dresses and other

177

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

property burnt in the fire at Drury Lane some
few years ago.

As a good deal of my life was passed in the
circus and among showmen, the name of P. T.
Barnum comes naturally into my mind. He was
certainly the prince of showmen — shrewd and
businesslike in everything he touched, prompt
to act, amazingly ingenious in devising novelties
to attract the public, and a wonderful organiser.
Before he died he had brought the working of his
show, the biggest in the world in its variety of
exploits, to a methodical perfection, and rarely
did anything go wrong.

It can easily be imagined that when dates had
been fixed for months ahead and contracts entered
into as to the hiring of halls and grounds, strict
punctuality had to be observed if money wasn't
to be lost. The removal of such a gigantic show
as Barnum's from place to place, often many
miles distant from each other, was no easy matter.
It meant much thought, the drilling of many men
in their particular duties, and the working of
everjrthing smoothly and almost mechanically.
How admirably all this was done never failed to
surprise me, accustomed though I was to the
process.

When the animals had finished their turn and
while the rest of the performance was going on,
they would be quietly removed in their cages
to the train that was awaiting them. Scarcely
was the show over when the tent master's whistle
was heard and down fell the canvas walls of the
big enclosure, gathered up, and before the people
were out of the place, the ring, seats and so on

178

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

were removed. It was a big job, for the horses
alone numbered 300, but the whole thing was
done in about an hour, and hardly a word spoken
by any one. All knew their work thoroughly.
The show filled three trains. The first contained
the sleeping cars and the last the menagerie.
Some little excitement was often provided by the
stowaways, who, to get a free ride, would hang
on to various parts of the trains, hoping to escape
notice, but they never did. A party always went
round just before the signal was given to start,
and routed the loafers with sticks, which were
not taken for no purpose !

Barnum was of course an old man when I was
engaged by him — he died, I think, in 1891 — but age
hadn't lessened his care over every detail and his
personal watchfulness. One of my performances
consisted of antics on the high stilts, and the
impersonation of a tipsy man while in that elevated
position was always a great success. My swaying
about, pretending I was about to fall, and recover-
ing myself, made the audience laugh, and at the
same time gave them a thrill.

On one occasion I saw Barnum sitting in a front
row watching me intently. After my turn he sent for
me, and complimented me on the performance, "but,"
said he, '* don't do it again. It's too dangerous."

Undoubtedly it was very risky, though I never
had a tumble, and the consideration of Barnum for
the safety of his company struck me as a good
trait in his character. Most managers think only
of the laugh and the applause of the audience, and
the performer has to take a back seat so far as his
bodily safety is concerned.

179

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Barnum was a showman to the last. He never
forgot that success in his Une was a good deal
dependent upon personal popularity, so he always
kept in the limelight. One important item in his
personal programme was the little speeches he was
fond of making. I daresay in his best days they
were effective enough, but in his declining years
his voice became so weak that it was little better
than a wheeze, and his words could not reach
beyond a couple of rows or so of the stalls. This
drawback made no difference to Barnum. It
didn't matter much what he said, the great point
was his appearance on the stage — he was as much
a part of the show as any of the performers. He
knew as well as, or better than anybody, that
effect was all-important. The audience had to be
impressed, no matter how it was done ; so to
bring this about, he always had a score or so of the
miscellaneous helpers, tent men and so on, stationed
among the audience, who punctuated his little
speeches with stentorian shouts of " Bravo,
Barnum ! " and the like, and naturally the audience
followed suit without knowing why or wherefore.

While with Barnum's show I made the acquaint-
ance of General Tom Thumb. The little general
had most charming manners, and was in every
respect a perfect gentleman. I used to play
billiards with him often ; he had a fair amount of
skill, notwithstanding his physical drawbacks. To
get to the proper height for the board he had to
stand upon a stool.

As a contrast to this diminutive player, I
remember watching a game between Signor Foli
and Frank Celli, a member of the clever Standing

180

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

family. Foli was born " Foley." He came from
the sister isle and he Italianised his name, in
deference I suppose to the feelings of the native
operatic Italian artistes. He was quite six feet three
(perhaps a little more) and Celli topped six feet.
To see these two huge men sprawling half over the
billiard table and bringing off long shots, disdainful
of the " rest," had something of the grotesque
about it. Perhaps they felt it was so themselves,
for throughout the game they never ceased chaffing
each other.

Sir Augustus Harris had a personality not easily
forgotten. His mental activity was ceaseless. He
knew what he wanted and he saw that he got it.
He, too, was a born showman, inheriting the instinct
no doubt from his father, who for many years was
stage manager at the Italian opera, and whose
artistic presentations of many famous operas would
even in these days be regarded as scenic triumphs.

The elder Harris had a genius for " effect,"
whether on or off the stage. He was noted for
wearing the silkiest and glossiest hats, and probably
set the fashion which so many theatrical managers
have followed down to the present time.

Harris regarded his glossy hat as a kind of
fetish, and it was whispered that secretly he wor-
shipped it. On one occasion at a rehearsal of the
ballet everything went wrong. The girls were
perverse, or frivolous, or in tantrums of some kind.
Harris alternately coaxed and swore, but to no
purpose. At last in despair he cast his cherished
hat on the floor and stamped on it, exclaiming
*' There ! " The effect was appalling ; it was
equivalent to a sounding of the last trump, and some

181

FROM SA^ADUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

of the girls fainted. Nothing more could be done
that day, but on the morrow all went like clock-
work.

I've no doubt that Sir Augustus was quite
capable of creating a characteristic situation like
this, if circumstances demanded it. At any rate
it is certain that wherever he was he had to be in
the centre of the picture. I recollect the artist
of a coloured poster to advertise the nautical
melodramas once very popular at Drury Lane,
submitting the design to Sir Augustus, then Mr.
Harris. The licensee and manager was at that
time playing in the pieces he produced, not that he
was in any way a brilliant actor — I don't think
he was under any illusions as to that — but in order
to qualify himself in a claim for the Drury Lane
Fund. The artist had produced a well-balanced
picture and to carry out his design had found it
advisable to put the hero in a somewhat subordinate
position. Now Harris was the hero and he looked
very doubtfully at the counterfeit representation
of himself. Then he pointed to the foreground,
remarking :

" H'm, very good — but I must be there !"

The poor artist was greatly distressed. The
alteration would entirely upset the harmony of
his design. But this was of no importance, the
advertisement was the only thing that mattered,
and from his point of view Sir Augustus was right.

Sir Augustus Harris no doubt had his weaknesses,
but want of generosity was not one of them. I
was first engaged by him when he was running
Covent Garden Theatre. I had as clown become a
great favourite with the children, so much so that

182

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

it seemed to me that I ought to have a benefit^
and I suggested as much to Mr. Harris. " Certainly,
my boy,*' said he, in his genial manner, and he at
once told Mr. Latham to draw out a contract. The
terms of the contract were that I was to have half
of the takings after £500, but that I was to spend
£100 on posters, etc., and I was to be given a month
for advertising my benefit. We shook hands on the
bargain, and with a twinkle in his eye which I
could not make out at the time, but understood
afterwards, he said I ought to make £10,000 on
the night.

The benefit arrived in due course. It was to
include an afternoon and evening performance.
The show in the afternoon was very bad, and
I was rather cast down. Everybody was, how-
ever, very encouraging and prophesied that at
night the house wouldn't hold the crowds. The
night came along and was worse than the after-
noon. I was never so disheartened.

On the following day Augustus Harris came
to the theatre to settle up with me. The first
words he said were, " How did you get on last
night ? " " Rotten," I told him. He began to
laugh. Said he, " I'll tell you a secret. You're
all right in the arena or on the stage, but you're
no good as a manager. Did you really think
that with my eyes open I should let you have this
theatre half to half after £500 with matinee and
night show and give you a month to advertise it ?
I did it because I knew very well that all your
friends — that is, the children — would have all
gone back to school, but you wanted a benefit,
so I humoured you. But you shall have a benefit,

183

I

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

and there it is," and he put into my hands a
contract for three years right off at a very big
salar}'^ ; so that was what the twinkle in the eye
meant.

On another occasion Augustus Harris put a
good thing in my way, of which I did not take
advantage, and I much regretted my refusal
afterwards. From Covent Garden I went to
Drury Lane, where the pantomime that year
was to be '" Beauty and the Beast." Lady Dunlo
was to play *' Beauty," and no one was better
fitted, thanks to Nature's gifts, but the part of
the " Beast " had not been settled. Mr. Harris
sadly wanted me to take it, but at that time I
was bent upon clowning, and so John D'Auban
was engaged. But I had my chance afterwards
when Harris opened at the Prince of Wales
Theatre, Liverpool, with " Venus." The cast
included Lady Dunlo (she played under the name
she was best known by. Belle Bilton), Harry
Nicholls and myself. In some respects this was a
great advance, as henceforth my business was''
not entirely confined to clowning.

A comical incident happened during one of the
rehearsals at Drury Lane for " Venus." I was
cast for " Mercury," and it occurred to me that
it would be an effective bit of fooling if I made my
entry standing on a globe, and trundling it with
my feet. I came in in this fashion, but I hadn't
bargained for a chunk of wood a carpenter had
left on the stage. I had just commenced to say :
*' I am * Mercury,' newsman of the gods," when
the globe and I parted company, I came ilop on
the stage and rolled over the footlights into the

184

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

orchestra, and on to a fiddler. Sir Augustus,
who was present, laughed heartily — he always
liked a joke — and enquired whether I was going
to put the fall in at night ? For fear of accidents
it was decided to cut out this particular bit of
business, and perhaps it was as well, for on this
occasion it cost me 7s. 6d. to provide the fiddler
with a new bow.

" Venus," I might mention, was an extrava-
ganza. It was in three acts and had three authors
— William Yardley, Edward Rose and Augustus
Harris. The music was by John Crook.

The revels at Olympia which Sir Augustus organ-
ized I shall never forget. For real rollicking fun
they have never had their equal. My connection
with them came about in this way. I had finished
a most successful pantomime season at the
Court Theatre, Liverpool, and when the run
was over Sir Augustus invited me to dinner at
the Adelphi Hotel, where he was staying. After
dinner he told me to report myself at his house,
" The Elms," St. John's Wood, on the following
Tuesday morning at 11 o'clock. I obeyed his
instructions ; we had lunch and he went to the
'phone and 'phoned to Arthur Sturgess, telling
him I had arrived and that he was to bring the
manuscript. Sturgess turned up in the afternoon
with the script, which Sir Augustus handed
to me, saying, " Here you are, my boy ;
go home and study it and come here a week
to-day."

" What is it ? " I asked.

*' Hamlet in a Hurry," was his reply. " I
want you to study it carefully. None of your

185 N

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

red-nosed comedian about it ; you must play it
straight."

I started aghast. I was getting fat and scant
of breath. I could not imagine myself playing
" Hamlet," the Prince of Denmark. I really
thought he was going mad. However, I took
the script home and studied it. I soon saw that
Harris had been pulling my leg. The play was
to be " Hamlet " sure enough, but the version
of it to be performed at Richardson's show at
Olympia — for this was the notion — would have
turned what little hair the Bard possessed as
white as snow.

I saw Sir Augustus the next morning at Drury
Lane.

*' Whimmy," said he, '' I want you to get some
of the oldest actors and actresses you can find
for the cast."

I hunted London and pitched upon Joe Cave,
Marie St. Gerard, Ainsley Burton, Gertie St.
Clair, and one or two more. The whole business
was a jolly farce. We had rehearsals in Harris's
bathroom — a very spacious affair — at " The
Elms," and things promised to go splendidly.

Meanwhile a Richardson's show was being built
at Olympia. The interior was painted to repre-
sent a barn. The act drop was ornamented with
Shakespeare's head on a pedestal and purposely
drawn very groggy and lop-sided, and looking
as if it were about to fall off. There were mock
boxes supposed to be full of the notabilities of
the day. Gladstone and his family were smiling
at Lord Beaconsfield and his friends, who were
smiling in return. The outside of the show was

186

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

quite the real thing with its big pictures of fat
women, living skeletons and the like.

This makeshift look was only confined to the
show itself. The dresses of the players were
magnificent, both in material and colour. It was
a characteristic of Sir Augustus that he would
always have the best of everything. The black
feather in my cap cost two or three pounds and
the " Ghost " was resplendent in silver-plated
armour. As for the robes of the King and Queen,
they were simply dazzling. Outside, our band
consisted of a cornet, trombone, flute and a big
drum. A fine orchestral band was stationed
opposite our show and did its best to play us down.
But we contrived to score with our big drum.
Sometimes " Hamlet " banged it and occasionally
the " Ghost " would take a turn. Now and again
the rival orchestra pelted us with oranges and I
rather fancy that Sir Augustus, who had a number
of friends with him and who was in the highest
spirits, had a hand in this.

We used to give eight or nine performances a
day, each one lasting half an hour or so, and the
money rolled in without ceasing and the lowest
price was sixpence. Fred Storey painted the
scenery, opening with a representation of the
battlements very much out of the perpendicular.
As for the dialogue, it was after this style : The
sentry was ordered to *' form squares " which he did
by squaring his feet. Enter " Hamlet," upon which
the sentry remarked, " Here comes the Prince."

" How goes the night ? " " Hamlet " enquired.

" Very well, thank you," was the reply. " How
are you ? "

187

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

This may not seem particular brilliant, but I
suppose we made it sound funny, for the audience
laughed uproariously.

The " Ghost " was a screaming success. The
man who took this part was about 75 years of
age and a raw-boned Scotchman, and when he
opened his mouth and said, " Ye ken, I am yer
father's ghost," in broad Scotch, the people yelled !
We did three acts ; we cut out all the long speeches,
and when any of the players started upon one I
would bring out my watch with :

" There's no time for that speech," to the player's
intense disgust.

The Scotchman insisted upon having a pint of
beer at every performance or he wouldn't play,
so I gave him threepence per performance. Unfor-
tunately the staff bar was a long way from the show,
but he didn't care — he walked to it and got his beer
all the same. It so happened that with all his
armour on he had to pass a lot of shrubbery and
small trees, and by the time of the fourth show of
the day he would come back minus some of his
armour. Finding it rather inconvenient, he had
taken it off and laid it against the trees, and what
with the beer going to his head he forgot where he
put his corslet and helmet, or whatever it might be.
After that I had to get a boy to watch him and
bring back his armour. Once he came back very
inebriated, but he got through his performance
till the last speech, when he overbalanced himself,
fell through the small stage door on to the gravel
outside the show, and shouted to the amusement
of the audience, " There's something rotten in the
steps of this damned show."

188

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Joe Cave, owing to his infirmity of temper, was
a continual source of trouble. He was one of the
most cantankerous men I ever came across and it is
not too much to say he was very unpopular. In this
travesty of '* Hamlet " he was the grave-digger,
and he was perpetually having rows with the
** Ghost " and the manager. Why there should
have been so many squabbles I can't understand,
unless it was owing to the beer at the staff bar,
which was certainly cheap and might have been
the other thing as well. More than once I've seen
" Ophelia " with a black eye. On one occasion
Joe Cave reached the limit of fury. He and I
were dining together and a mutual friend came
behind Cave unseen by him and slapped him on the
back — a habit particularly stupid and most
annoying. It sent Joe into a paroxysm of rage,
for he had false teeth, and the concussion shot the
entire set into his soup ! The language that followed
was sultrv of the sultriest.

Cave had been in the profession nearly all his
life and no doubt he had the mysteries of manage-
ment at his fingers' end, but owing to his abominable
temper he was not a success. It may have been
due to this cause that the transformed " Old
Vic," which was rebuilt some five and thirty years
ago, and of which he was the first manager, was a
failure. Certainly it would be hard to match the
fiasco on Christmas Eve of the dress rehearsal of
the pantomime to which the public was admitted.
Mishaps followed one after the other. The trans-
formation scene haltingly commenced a little
before midnight and the curtain descended amid
the shrieking of ballet girls. Something had gone

189

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

wrong. Joe Cave rushed on to apologise. All that
could be heard was his explanation that the building
of the theatre and the pantomime had cost
thousands and thousands of pounds. The sight
of the excited little man, grey trousers below and
some kind of pantomime costume above, was the
funniest thing the audience had seen that night,
and they roared.

Joe's claim to celebrity — and it is a claim
unknown to most people — is that he made the
popularity of the song, '' I'm ninety-five — I'm
ninety-five." The melody was taken from one of
Bishop's operas, but who wrote the words I'm
unable to say. The tune afterwards became the
regimental marching air of the old City of London
Volunteer Rifle Brigade. Cave ended his days
in the Charterhouse, where he kept up his reputation
of " old Grumpy," so much so that the brethren
petitioned that he might have his dinner served
in his own room, and the request was granted.

Cave's cantankerousness and the grumbles not-
withstanding, Richardson's show was a tremendous
hit, and Sir Henry Irving, John L. Toole, Phil
May and others were constant visitors in front.
Without a doubt Sir Augustus Harris was right
when he forbade any clowning. If I had painted
my nose I should have spoilt the effect. It was
the taking of the play seriously that made it so
funny.

I must say that after playing the part over
and over again I got " Hamlet " into my blood
and began to believe that if I tried hard enough
I should end by being a tragedian. I couldn't
help talking about him and I can't help airing

190

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

my views now. " Hamlet," like the weather,
is a subject for eternal discussion. I feel it is
only right that I should chip in with a word or
two. " Hamlet's " trouble was undoubtedly
indigestion ; he took a bilious view of life. He
was worried about his increasing weight and his
sorrows turned to fat very quickly. I think we
ought to pity rather than blame him for his
unfortunate habit of talking to himself. His
partiality for ghosts and graveyards must have
made him rather a dreary companion on an Easter
Bank Holiday, but I could have put up with that.
What I cannot stand about " Hamlet " is his
frightful rudeness to his mother ! Jump on poor
old dad if you must, kick uncle George out of
the window if you like, but say one unkind word
about mother, and the British Constitution totters
on its base. After all, why shouldn't his mother
marry again if she wanted to ? She was accus-
tomed to the little ways of kings and it was only
natural that she should select another for her
second venture ! Besides, " Hamlet " must have
found his step-father come in very handy when
funds were low and he hadn't got the wherewithal
for a fresh bilious attack. " Hamlet's " view of
life was the view of " the morning after the night
before."

191

CHAPTER XVI

My first engagement at Covent Garden. My performing pig.
Its ultimate end. Some dog yarns. Animal trainers not cruel.
" Verdun," the wonderful performing horse. How E. T. Smith
swallowed a £1.000 note. A shadow in my life. My first panto
at Drur}' Lane Theatre. A " great cab act." Comic film scenes
indebted to the harlequinade. The decline of the harlequinade.
The clown's difficulties with the orchestra. Royalty at the
pantomime. I present Princess Mary with a Christmas cracker.
The cracker and the cats — a practical joke. The relief of
Ladj'smith — an excited audience. Arthur Roberts, the prince
of " spoofers." Escapades at a Sheffield hotel. Pressmen
" spoofed " by a water chute. The " spooferies."

My first engagement at Covent Garden Theatre
was as a circus clown. Sir Augustus Harris and
Mr. Freeman Thomas, afterwards identified with
the promenade concerts, subsequently given, took
the theatre for a season, and ran it as a circus,
Hengler's providing the entertainment. I have
always been very successful with performing
animals, and this time I was lucky in having a
very clever pig. I'm not prepared to say which
is the more intelligent, the pig or the donkey ;
whether or not, both are proof that four-footed
animals have more brains that they know how
to use than people suspect. This particular pig
became greatly attached to me ; it used to follow

192

Whimsical Walker as
he appeared before
H.M. Gracious Majesty
Queen Victoria, by
command, Windsor
Castle, 25th Febiuary.
1886

Whimsical Walker
rehearsing a love
scene with Miss
Nancy Buckland,
Drury Lane Theatre
Stage

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

me about like a dog, and it was immensely popular
with the company. Its fate was somewhat singular
and due to a peculiar accident.

There was, of course, in the theatre a refresh-
ment bar, which I imagine was the attraction
which drew Mr. Freeman Thomas into the
speculation, he being in the wine and spirit trade,
and at the time was the proprietor of the *' Griffin "
in Villiers Street, Strand. One day a friend of
mine dropped in before the performance com-
menced and suggested a drink at the bar. I accom-
panied him there, and so did the pig. My friend
ordered a bottle of champagne and threw a
sovereign on the counter. It bounced in the air
and rolled on the ground, and " Tommy " the
pig being always on the look out for unconsidered
trifles, found the coin and swallowed it. I don't
suppose the sovereign would have done him the
least bit of harm, but unfortunately the circus
grooms saw the coin disappear into his mouth
and laid their plans accordingly. What their
plan to get hold of the sovereign was I don't know,
but they gave him medicine of some sort. I
noticed him getting thinner and thinner every
day, but did not at once suspect what was the
matter. One morning poor " Tommy " was found
lying in the cellar dead and it was pretty certain
that poison was the cause. No post-mortem
followed, which was a pity, as there was a possi-
bility that the miscreants had not been successful
and the sovereign would have been found ; not
that this would have been of the slightest im-
portance, as I would have given many sovereigns
rather than be deprived of my faithful companion.

193

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR Cx\STLE

A reward was offered to find out the man
who poisoned the pig, but he was never dis-
covered.

IntelUgent as donkeys and pigs may be, they
are distanced a long way by dogs. I once had a
poodle which was the cleverest animal I ever
had to do with. There was something almost
uncanny in his imitative faculty. I had but to
do a trick once and he grasped it at once. I may
give an instance of this, which had it not been
witnessed by myself would be considered in-
credible. I was breakfasting one morning when
I saw the poodle gnawing my slippers, and it
made me so angry that I seized him, knocked his
head against the wall and threw him out of
the window, which chanced to be open. He
wasn't hurt, as he had but a very little distance
to fall. The next morning he came in as usual,
saw the slippers, and I imagine this reminded
him of what had occurred the previous day, for
he rushed to the wall, knocked his head against
it, and then leaped out of the window. He thought
he had learned a new trick.

Among the dogs which I have at various times
possessed, was an Airedale terrier. It was not a
performing animal, its chief peculiarity being that
it had an abnormally long tail. And thereby
hangs a tale. I parted with the dog to an army
officer, who shortly afterwards went to India with
his regiment. Some few years afterwards I met
the officer on his return to the old country, and
he said :

" Walker, that dog I got from you was a good
investment ; it saved my life upon one occasion."

194

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

I said I was glad to hear this, and asked for
particulars.

" Well," said the officer, " one day in India,
accompanied by the dog, I wandered quite a long
distance from the cantonment and got lost in the
jungle. For seven or eight hours I searched in
vain for an outlet ; I was not only dismayed,
but as I had had no food for some time previously
I was also starving. At length I came to a clearing
where I gathered together some brushwood and
lighted a fire. Famished as I was I was ravenous
for food, so I called the faithful dog to my knee,
cut off his tail, and ate the tail for supper. When
I had finished I noticed the poor animal looking
at me very piteously — it was also famished, so
I gave the dog the bone to pick ! " I don't vouch
for the truth of this. It may be a hen trovato.

Of late there has been considerable controversy
as to the training of performing animals. Human-
itarians have got it into their heads — not for the
first time — that much cruelty is involved in teaching
them their tricks. While I was recently performing
in the principal Midland towns the representative
of a leading Lancashire paper put this question to
me : " In your opinion is it possible to train
animals to trick work by any method except
kindness ? "

'* Utterly impossible,''^ was my reply. " I have
trained more performing animals than any other
clown alive and I have found them ready to respond
to kindness — always. The person who attempts
to train an animal by cruelty will never succeed,
and I say with knowledge ranging back over fifty
years that there is not a single animal travelling

195

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

to-day that could have been trained in any other
way. Kindness first, last and always is the founda-
tion of success in training all animals. Come with
me and I'll let you see for yourself the sort of animals
we have in this show. I'll introduce you to a man
who brought a horse from the brink of the grave
to be the best trained and best mannered animal
of the kind in existence."

The journalist accompanied me to the stables
and I presented him to the well-known owner of
the pantomime horse " Verdun." The trainer
and owner of this clever animal is Mr. Agube
Gudzow, whose deeds in the ring are world famous.
" Verdun " was in his stall feeding and my friend
was doubtful whether it was safe to disturb the
horse while at his meal. The trainer smiled and in
a moment " Verdun " had turned towards the
visitor and placed his nose in the journalist's
hand.

This horse, between which and Mr. Gudzow
exists a strong bond of affection, has a very interest-
ing history. " Verdun " is so named because he
fought all through the later stages of the war that
raged round the heroic French city. Gassed and
suffering from shell shock, three times wounded,
the noble animal was put up for auction in London.
A foreign horse dealer bid £l for the broken-down
hero and it was going to feed the Dutch when Mr.
Gudzow bid £5 and the horse was knocked down to
him. To-day it is known all over the country,
and in Hyde Park, when exercising in Rotten Row,
people bring it enough sugar to satisfy a schoolboy.

I then took my friend to Mr. Fred Astley, the
trainer of another celebrated performing horse,

196

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

" Black Prince." The idea of cruelty to this animal
is out of the question, for the young stallion is not
the sort of chap to stand any nonsense. Yet his
act brings storms of applause, and when his perform-
ance is over master and horse lunch together !

Mr. Carlos Mier, another trainer, served this
country throughout the war as a breaker-in of
horses. He is known far and wide as an expert at
his business and smiles sarcastically at the
suggestion that cruelty is ever practised towards
the animals. Mr. Mier brought from the army
training ground at Market Harborough a dog that
had been the pet of the soldiers. This clever animal
is called " Spot," and the way he jumps to receive
his master is evidence of his strong affection. I
could give many other instances of the love which
animals have for their trainers and I wish the people
who have a wrong idea of this animal training
business could spend five minutes in my company
and go with me over a well-ordered show. I
think after seeing for themselves the real state of
things, they would discover that trainers and show-
men associated with animals are almost universally
keen lovers of our dumb friends, are the first
to resent any ill-treatment, and have taken instant
action in cases of cruelty of any sort which have
come under their notice.

My pet pig's inadvertent swallowing of money
reminds me of a curious episode at the old
" Criterion " in the days when the long buffet was
a favourite resort of men about town, and an equally
favourite place for lunches and dinners. Mr. E.
T. Smith and Mr. Jonas Levy, who combined the
deputy chairmanship of the London and Brighton

197

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Railway Company with dramatic criticism — he wrote
the theatrical notices in Lloyds News for many
years — were dining there with one or two friends
when Mr. Howard Paul joined them. Howard
Paul had just returned from America and was
unusually exuberant.

His visit to America had proved very profitable,
but the others did not know this. As a rule his
pocket was somewhat low, and when he began to
talk loudly about the money he'd made and
flourished a £1,000 bank note as evidence, the party
thought he was " codding " them. Howard Paul
to be in possession of a £1,000 Bank of England note
was too absurd for anything.

" Let me look at it," said E. T. Smith, and
Howard Paul proudly handed it over to the lessee
of Drury Lane Theatre.

Smith was having soup at the time, and no
sooner had he hold of the note than he crumpled
it into a ball, dropped it into the spoonful of soup
he was raising to his mouth and swallowed 4t.
Howard Paul's face went green and his eyes were
distended with horror. E. T. Smith thought
the note was bogus, whereas it was perfectly
genuine.

What was to be done ? Nothing. Bank note
paper was quite easy of digestion. The upshot was
that everyone present had to make an affidavit
to satisfy the bank that the note had really
disappeared in the fashion described, but even
then it was some three months before Howard
Paul was comforted by another note. It is odd
that the swallowed note should be a thousand
pound one, for thousand pound notes had a peculiar

198

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

fascination for E. T. Smith. It is a fact that when
any theatre or building that he favoured for show
purposes was put up for sale by auction, " E. T."
would bid for it, and when it was knocked down
to him would flash a £1,000 note in the auctioneer's
face as an earnest of his possession of means,
and trust to chance to being able to raise the
purchase money. If he failed, then the £1,000 note
came in handy for a second attempt.

Sorrow is closely allied to gaiety, as I had too
good reason to discover while Hengler's had
Covent Garden. Just before my engagement at
the theatre my wife was taken seriously ill, and
I had her removed to Hull, my native place,
where she would be among friends. I had reason
to fear there were no hopes of her recovery, and
after the season began at Covent Garden I would
two or three times a week take the night mail
train to Hull to see her and return to London
the next morning in time for the morning per-
formance. This constant travelling and anxiety
told upon me terribly, and I arranged with the
doctor to send a wire should she be taken worse.
A telegram came to me in due course, but owing
to its being addressed to Hengler's headquarters
in Arg^de Street, there was considerable delay
before I got it. The message was as I feared —
my wife was much worse. I set off for Hull at
once and at Doncaster found a wire awaiting me,
telling me that my poor wife was dead. She had,
it appeared, died in her sleep. I went on to Hull
and while I was standing at her bedside a telegram
was brought me. It was from Covent Garden
and ran, " Prince and Princess of Wales coming

199

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

to-night. Return if possible." I could do no
good by staying at Hull. I rushed back to London
and performed before their Royal Highnesses —
how much my heart was aching, though possibly
my face did not show it, I need not say — and
hurried back for the funeral. The reaction after
this terrible strain was too much to sustain. I
had a nervous breakdown and was in bed for six
weeks. Little did people think when I again was
able to appear in the circus and was making them
laugh how I felt inwardly, but the matter was
kept a secret and no one knew.

Some time later, while at Drury Lane, I was
going on to the stage in my clown's dress when a
telegram was put into my hands, and I read,
" Frank Walker died this morning at Carlisle of
pneumonia." Frank Walker was my son. How
I went through the pantomime of that night after
the shock of this news I've no idea. I may have
been funny, I can't say. Anyhow, I had to go
through my " business " and I did it. The^ poor
boy promised to do well in his profession, which
was mine ; he was a tremendous favourite with
the Carlisle people, and some 5,000 followed him
to his grave. So you see I had my ups and downs,
with my face painted trying to make others laugh,
and with deep sorrow in my heart.

I began at Drury Lane in 1891 with " Beauty
and the Beast " ; Lady Dunlo was " Beauty,"
John D'Auban the "Beast," and Vesta Tilley
was also in the cast. In the harlequinade quite
a number of the Leopold family took part. There
were two clowns, myself and Harry Leopold.
Fred Leopold was harlequin, and Joseph Leopold

200

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

pantaloon. The Era was good enough to say :
" In the second scene, a model farmyard.
Whimsical Walker in schoolboy attire introduced
his wonderful whimsical singing donkey and
added enormously to the amusement of the
spectators in what we may call a great cab act."

This was some comic business which I fancy
must have been suggested to me by the unpre-
meditated pranks I played in Dublin (already
related), when I was chased by a policeman and
evaded him by running round and underneath
a horse and the constable falling down in the
pursuit, the whole thing ending in my temporary
sojourn in the police station. For pantomime
purposes I amplified the episode by the addition
of a four-wheeled cab — a real one, not a property
affair. There was much the same chase by a stage
policeman, only more so, as I was able to dart
through the cab in at one door and out at the
other with the policeman after me.

I am bound to say that royalty never turn
their backs upon pantomime. The late King
Edward, it is true, was not an enthusiastic patron,
if indeed he can be called a patron at all, for I'm
not aware that he ever was present at the " Drury
Lane " pantomime, and I'm told that he did not
care for this kind of show, but when a boy he
frequently accompanied Queen Victoria. Queen
Alexandra, on the other hand, very often came,
accompanied by her grandchildren. I well re-
member on one occasion when introducing some
" business " with Tom Smith's crackers, which
included throwing a number among the audience,
it^occurred|to me|to present a cracker to the little

201 o

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Princess Mary, who was in one of the boxes with
other members of the royal family. Getting a
ladder, I planted it against the box and mounted
it, crackers in hand. My clown's white and red
face in a queer headdress suddenly popping up
over the edge of the box rather alarmed the small
lady, I'm afraid. The clown is all very well at
the distance, but near to must seem an awful
figure, especially to a child's imaginative mind.
I presented the cracker. I could see she didn't
know whether to laugh or to cry. However, she
mustered up courage to take a cracker from me
and all went well, especially as she was rewarded
for her graciousness by a huge burst of applause.
As for the young prince, he looked upon the thing
as a rare bit of fun, and at once entered into the
spirit of it. This was the first visit of the Prince
of Wales, his brother and Princess Mary to a
pantomime.

This cracker " turn " was made a vehicle for a
practical joke of which I was the victim. The
** business " was first the lugging in of a gigantic
cracker, which pantaloon and I, after some of the
usual fooling, pulled and broke. It was stuffed
with little crackers and then followed the dis-
tribution. One night the cracker was torn
asunder, and out fell to my intense astonishment
a bevy of cats. Quite a thrill went through the
audience, it being naturally thought that the
thing had been purposely arranged, and the thrill
became excitement when the cats, scared beyond
measure, scampered about the stage, some
jumping into the orchestra, and others bounding
into the private boxes, to the intense terror of the

S02

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

occupants. I needn't say that I spotted the
perpetrator in that incurable practical joker Dan
Leno !

One had to keep an eye open for an opportunity
to introduce a topical allusion. The greatest
applause and enthusiasm I ever heard and
witnessed in Drury Lane Theatre was at a matinee
during the Boer War. Dan Leno and Herbert
Campbell had just come off the stage when a
telegram was put into Dan's hands. " Confound
it," he groaned, " I wish I'd had this given me
ten minutes ago. What a chance missed ! "
Then he brightened up. " Whimmy," said he,
" read this and give it out." The telegram was
" Relief of Ladysmith." Accordingly I went on
and announced the news. Directly I had uttered
the words I saw it was no good going on with my
performance. The audience rose to its feet, shouted,
threw up their hats, and some started singing
the National Anthem. The curtain had to be
rung down and the show brought to an end. Going
out of the theatre the newspaper boys were rushing
past with " Reported relief of Ladysmith " on
the contents bills. The place was not relieved
for a fortnight after and Dan then had his chance
to make the announcement. But again he was
defrauded by a premature bit of gag on the part
of a precocious boy (afterwards well known as
Jimmy Harrington) as related by Jimmy Glover.

The greatest bit of " spoof " that ever was done,
I should think, was at Sheffield — with myself
and Arthur Roberts. I was performing in " Venus,"
which Sir Augustus Harris had produced at the
Alexandra Theatre, and Arthur Roberts was

203

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

at the Theatre Royal. I had a note from Arthur
Roberts asking me to come up after the show,
so I went and found a brougham waiting outside
the Theatre Royal. It had been sent for him from
the Maunch Hotel, where in fact we were all staying.
I needn't say that Arthur Roberts was a born
" spoofer " and never missed a chance of pulling
somebody's leg. He sometimes got himself up so
that even his own flymen did not recognise him.
On this occasion he had a fur coat on and he looked
more like a Russian than anything else. A stage
hand was standing next to us with a clay pipe ia
his mouth, so Arthur began talking " cod " Russian
to me and I was the interpreter. In the middle of
this " cod " talk I turned round to this man saying :
" The Prince from Moscow (meaning Arthur)
wants to know if you'd like to go to his hotel and
have supper with him. He's taken a liking to the
British working men, he says they look so strong
and healthy." So, with a little bit of persuasion,
we got the man into the brougham and we were
taken to the Maunch Hotel. As interpreter to the
Prince I got our guest to go into a room by himself
and told him to wash his face and make himself
as presentable as he could.

In due time he came into our room, where there
were Harry Nichols, Fred Latham, myself and
Arthur Roberts. Arthur kept up his jabbering
and of course I interpreted it, telling the man that
the " Prince " was surprised to see what a small
foot the man had for such a big fellow and wanted
to know how he would look without his boots.
The upshot was we got his boots off, then his coat
and waistcoat, as his Highness would like to see

204

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

how many inches he was round the chest. Finally,
we had everything off him except a little bit of red
flannel that he had on his chest. When he was
reduced to this extremity the man protested,
saying : " I'll take nought else off," and we
considerately left him with this bit of flannel 1
Finally we each gave him a couple of bob and sent
him home. Then the manager of the hotel came
upon the scene and there was something like a
row, but we made it all right by treating the
manager.

This was not the end of our " spoofing " enter-
prise. Our room was on the top floor of the hotel,
and when Harry Nichols and Latham left us it was
early in the morning and we heard the servants
moving about. A bit of devilry came into our
minds to do some statuary business with the table
cloths, and when the domestics came into the room
to tidy up they found Arthur on one table and me
upon another, with white table cloths round us
and a little bit of soot on our noses. Directly the
girls saw these two ghostly figures on the table
they screamed and fell down in a faint. I rushed
to a hiding place, thinking it was a cupboard, got
into it and found it was the lift, and I went with
a horrible grinding noise right to the bottom.
Where Arthur got to I don't know, but with the
row everybody was out of bed, and of course we
were asked to leave the hotel. But somehow we
talked over the manager and he forgave us.

A third escapade and I've done with the Maunch
Hotel. One night, or rather morning, Arthur and I
came from the Arts Club on a conveyance which
was not quite orthodox, or even respectable, being

205

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

in fact simply a street sweeper with a huge brush !
Imagine the picture, two men sitting on a street
sweeping machine at four in the morning, with
silk hats on ! We got to the hotel and they let us in
through the iron latticed doors, which formed the
entrance. No sooner were we inside than another
idea occurred to us. Down we went on our hands
and knees, crawling round and round and pretending
to be wild beasts and occasionally growling through
the bars at the artisans and colliers going to work.
A frantic expostulation from the manager followed,
but we made it up with him, so much so that when
we were leaving he presented each of us with a
knife !

The following, I think, may be called a natural
" spoof " — it was certainly a " spoof " on the part
of Dame Nature. I once visited a friend of mine
who had taken a billiard saloon for the season in a
well-known South Coast watering place. Luck was
dead against him, for during the first few weeks there
was scarcely one fine day, and though a few visitors
were driven by the weather into his saloon matters
were not much better there, because the skylight
was a dreadfully leaky one. On my first visit to
the saloon I found a couple of players engaged in
a game, and my friend standing near each player
in turn holding up an umbrella to keep the rain
from splashing on the table and spoiling the strokes !
There were only a few spectators, and these were
in a high state of glee, and were constantly encourag-
ing the players with cries of "In off the spot !
In off the spot ! " the said spot, in every instance,
being a newly-made rainspot that had dropped from
the skylight on to the green cloth. As these rain-

206

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

spots were continually appearing, the players had
a great variety of choice for their strokes !

I remember a good example of an unintentional
" spoof " which occurred when I was engaged at the
Agricultural Hall in " China in London." This was
the first time the water chute was introduced. It was
then a great novelty, but was afterwards made
familiar enough to the public at Earls Court.

The management invited the London Press to
lunch, after which they were able to sample the
chute. This performance was faithfully carried
out — indeed too faithfully, and this is where the
" spoof " came in. Special arrangements were
made for the new amusement (?) by the construction
of a water channel about three feet deep and six
feet wide, which ran right round the hall. There was
also a sort of miniature lake some ten feet square
and ten feet deep near the stage. This was for the
reception of Willie Beckwith, the famous swimmer,
when he dived from the roof, a performance which
always gave the audience the thrill of their lives.
This lake had nothing to do with the chute, but
fate ordained otherwise. The gentleman of the
Press could no more see into the future than could
ordinary people, and they took their seats in the
boat gaily enough after being well fortified by the
lunch. " Are you ready ? " called out the man in
charge. The Press answered as with one voice,
" Yes," and down they went into the three feet
channel. At least, this is what they should have
done according to the programme, but someone
or something had " blundered " and the boat
dipped into the ten feet lake and shot out all the
occupants ! It was something like a scrum ! I

207

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

did not read what was said in the papers about the
incident. Maybe it was one of those sUps concerning
which the less said the better.

The art of *' spoofing " was brought to a high
state of perfection at the " Spooferies," that queer
little club founded by Arthur Roberts and others
in a court near the Adelphi Theatre, between the
Strand and Maiden Lane. The premises consisted
of one large room, originally, I fancy, intended for
a cellar, and the " properties " were mainly a
billiard table and a grill ! The fun did not begin
until about midnight and ended with the milk
in the morning. Here I believe a number of victims
were offered up for sacrifice after the fashion of the
stage hand at Sheffield. Whether that episode
suggested the subsequent game — for a mock game
was invented — I am unable to say.

208

CHAPTER XVII

Pantomimes at old "Drury." A pantomime mishap. " Spoofing"
a Hebe of the old Gaiety buffet. E. J. Odell's rebuke. Sitting
on a corpse ! Drury Lane memories. Lady Dunlo and the
ham and beef shop. I play in Drury Lane panto from 1912 to
1920. Actors and actresses who have played in pantomimes.
Jimmy Welch and the New Clown. Mr. Arthur Bourchier as
clown in W. S. Gilbert's " Fairy's Dilenmia." A Crystal Palace
Pantomime. The Lupinos as children. Covent Garden
fancy dress balls. " Codding " the first prize. Dan Leno as a
policeman. Baddeley Twelfth Cake Festivities.

In 1895, after the death of Sir Augustus Harris >
Mr. Slater Dundas, his partner, took the panto-
mime which had been so splendid a success at
Drury Lane the year before, to the Theatre Royal,
Birmingham, and here I played the " Grand
Vizier " and was also the clown in the harlequinade.
The Birmingham people were delighted with it
and one newspaper declared that " no more
successful and brilliant pantomime has been seen
in this city for many a day."

The year 1898 saw me back at Drury Lane,
and here I remained for several successive seasons.
The pantomime of that year was " The Forty
Thieves," by Arthur Sturgess and Arthur Collins.
Dan Leno and Herbert Campbell were now
established favourites and I think I found my
clowning in the harlequinade was appreciated.
The pantaloon was Car Waller, the harlequin Tom

209

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

€usden, and the columbine Ruth Jezard. The
pantomime of the following year was " Jack and
the Beanstalk," also with Dan Leno and Herbert
Campbell to provide the fun previous to the
harlequinade. The cast in the latter was the
same as in the preceding season.

In the " Sleeping Beauty and the Beast," by
Jay Hickory Wood and Arthur ColUns (1900-1901),
the comic element was strengthened by the
addition of the late Fred Emney, and he with
Dan and Herbert made an unapproachable trio
of humorists. They also took the principal
characters in the " Bluebeard " of 1901-02, one of
the most successful pantomimes Mr. Collins ever
produced. As a rule the harlequinade is dis-
missed by the Press with a very brief reference,
but on this occasion one newspaper thought it
worthy of almost an extended notice. In describing
a scene which is supposed to represent a seaside
pier, the critic wrote : " The pantaloon and the
clown take possession of a coffee stall and are
greatly troubled by the dishonesty and vagaries
of their customers. Finally a tall, thin and starved-
looking vocalist takes up a position on the pier
and begins to warble ' Queen of my Heart.' Nothing
will remove this obstinately persevering singer.
The clown and the pantaloon belabour him
vigorously with boards, but all in vain. He is
there and there he remains till the fall of the
curtain, still chanting Alfred Cellier's serenade.
Whimsical Walker is a very funny clown and
works hard to keep things moving." Well, I
won't contradict this statement.

During the performance of one pantomime —

210

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

I forget which one — I had a curious mishap.
During my last visit to America I was very ill —
it was the time when I experienced the discomforts
of a Seattle hospital — and on my return to England
I was told that the root of the evil lay with my
teeth and that I must have them out. A dentist
extracted them accordingly, but when it came to
a question of a new set something went wrong.
The expert paid me numerous visits, swallowed
numerous nips of my whisky, besides money on
account, but no false teeth were forthcoming.
Finally he disappeared and I was left minus
dentist, minus teeth. I had to endure much
chaffing from my comrades owing to my trans-
formed facial appearance. I got tired of being
called " Old Gummy " and I was fitted with a
set of teeth by another dentist. But like the
majority of false teeth they were always more
or less a source of trouble, and one night in a
pantomime " rally " the comic policeman banged
me on the back, my teeth went flying and rolled
over the footlights into the orchestra and hit a
fiddler in the eye !

In the old pantomime days of Covent Garden
and Drury Lane Theatres life went merrily enough,
both on and off the boards. Drury Lane then
really existed. To-day it would be difficult to
fix the exact spot where it made its way into the
Strand. It has been " improved " into an ugly
gaunt street. I suppose the " improvements "
were necessary, but personally I prefer the old,
nondescript, out-at-elbows thoroughfare. I've had
many unexpected situations thrust upon me in
the " Lane."

211

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Once after a long and tedious rehearsal I went
to a hairdresser's close to the theatre to get
freshened up. I was so dead beat that I fell asleep
in the chair, and when the barber woke me (for
payment of course) I discovered he had treated
me to a perfect prison crop ! I was very much
annoyed and I owe him for that hair-cut yet.
While I was strolling down the " Lane " into the
Strand, feeling as if I'd just been released from
Wormwood Scrubbs, I met, I think, Herbert
Campbell, and we wandered into the " Gaiety "
bar, once the happy hunting ground of the high-
collared crutch and toothpick brigade, and also
known as " Prossers ' " Avenue. Suddenly he
noticed my shorn head and he exclaimed very
audibly : " Hullo, Whimmy, when did they let
you out ? " " Only this morning," said I, quite
seriously. He followed this up by enquiring
sympathetically whether I had been treated well.
"No," I rejoined, "the Governor was a brute;
kept me on the treadmill until the last moment."
The Hebe of the buffet was of the proud and
'aughty variety for which the " Gaiety " bar
was famed. She was all eyes and ears, so we
carried on in the way we had begun until she
believed we were two of the most desperate crooks
in> London, and when we ordered our drinks she
refused to serve us. We protested, but the mis-
chief was done, and a big man in livery came up
and suggested that the " Gaiety " was not the
place for such as us, but that we'd better try Bow
Street police station ! We did not contest
the point, but went on to the " Welhngton,"
opposite the stage door of the old Gaiety

212

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Theatre, and started a fresh topic of con-
versation.

One wanted a good deal of command of one's
temper to tackle any of these wonderful young
females should she be listening to the vapid cackle
of some smirking youth, all collar and cuffs, when
you asked her to serve you. You might have
been addressing one of the statues in a suburban
tea garden for any notice she took of you. She
might condescend to attend to your wants if she
thought fit, or she might not, but instead would
make a sign to some other damsel. Anyhow you
had to accept the snub. She was thoroughly
mistress of the position. E. J. Odell it was, I
believe, who once launched a sarcastic dart when
treated thusly. He turned to his companion, and
in his deep, distinctive, sustained tones remarked
with a sigh of regret : " And I'm told there were
once pretty girls here ! " Whether he got his
drink the quicker for this rebuke history doesn't
relate.

Another recollection of the " Lane " was of
quite a different character.

I was on speaking terms with an undertaker
there and he once invited me into his shop and
brought out a bottle of whisky. I sat myself
down on something covered with black cloth
and we hobnobbed together in friendly fashion.
The undertaker was an enthusiastic theatre-goer.
He knew a host of " stars " by sight and had
acquaintance with a few of the lesser lights. We
talked theatrical *' shop " and I happened to ask
the undertaker if he knew what had become of a
certain actor whom I mentioned by name.

213

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

" Yes," said the man composedly, " you're
a-sitting on him now ! " I jumped from the black
covered something and hurried away, leaving my
whisky behind me. It was some few minutes
before I recovered from the shock.

The mention of Drury Lane and its surroundings
bring back a host of memories — some of them
sad ones. So many old associates, so many old
landmarks have passed away. The "Albion," with
its pleasant suppers and merry talk, the " Wellington"
and its " Gaiety mixture " — a concoction of
whisky cold with a slice of lemon — the invention
of Bob Soutar, who with Meyer Lutz, the clever
musical conductor of the " Gaiety," and many,
many others used to foregather in the narrow-
saloon bar.

There was more Bohemianism and less glitter
and " swank " then than now. One can hardly
imagine to-day a lady of title, the " star " of a
Drury Lane pantomime, sharing sandwiches — and
enjoying them too — with the clown amid a crowd in
a ham and beef shop ! Yet I've had this pleasure
with Lady Dunlo more than once in the celebrated
ham and beef shop at the corner of Bow Street
and Russell Street, opposite the "Albion." But what
sandwiches they were ! The best in London. Such
white and well-made bread, such juicy ham and
such liberal measure of the latter were to be found
nowhere else. The glory of those sandwiches and
that ham and beef shop has passed away. It is
now a potato dealer's !

Years of pantomime work at Drury Lane
followed, without a break in the harlequinade so
far as I was concerned. " Mother Goose,"

214

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

" Humpty Dumpty," " The White Cat," " Cinder-
ella," all were highly successful. Then came a
long break and I went back in 1912, when the
attraction was the " Sleeping Beauty," by the
late G. R. Sims and Arthur Collins. The public
highly favoured this old fairy tale, and Mr. Sims
and Mr. Collins collaborated the next two years in
variations of the story under the titles of " The
Sleeping Beauty Reawakened," and " The Sleeping
Beauty Beautified." Then came *' Puss in Boats,"
and as the sequels to the " Sleeping Beauty "
had proved to be popular the experiment was tried
with " Puss in Boats," which in 1916-17 became
"Puss in New Boots." In "Aladdin" in 1918
two new pantomime writers, Mr. Frederick Anstey
and Mr. Frank Dix, joined Mr. Arthur Collins^
and Mr. Dix and Mr. Collins were responsible for
the pantomimes of the " Babes in the Wood "
and " Cinderella " in 1919 and 1920 respectively.

In the pantomimes above mentioned I had a share
of the old harlequinade business, which was
preserved, or as much of it as I was allowed to
produce.

From time to time appeared various actors and
actresses whose names are generally associated
with branches of the profession other than panto-
mime. The names of Lionel Rignold, Sophie
Larkin in " Cinderella " in 1895 (Sophie Larkin
was never what one would call a beautiful woman,
and I suppose it was one of life's little ironies which
caused her to be cast as one of the " Ugly Sisters ") ;
Clara Jecks in " Aladdin," Walter Passmore and
Emily Spiller in " Cinderella " (1905), George Graves,
George Barrett, Austin Melford, Florence Smithson,,

215

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Charles Rock, Madge Titherage, Robert Hale, and
last but not least, James Welch, who played " Prince
Patter " in " The White Cat " (1914). It was his
only appearance in pantomime and he could hardly
have felt at home. All the same he gathered a few
hints which came in handy in his memorable
performance in " The New Clown." I might say
that I had the privilege of " making him up "
in this part, which he created and made his own.

Jimmy Welch was not the only actor to play
clown whom I assisted in this way. Mr. Arthur
Bourchier essayed the character in W. S. Gilbert's
" Fairy's Dilemma " and his " make up " was due
to me. Mr. Gilbert has occasionally been
represented as being somewhat overbearing and
given to interference. I can only say I did not find
him so. Indeed, he was rather the reverse, and I
have in my possession a pin which he gave me as
an appreciation of my humble services. I fancy
that in his heart the author of the Bab ballads
had a great liking for pantomimes. Did he not
play harlequin at the Gaiety in the amateur
pantomime produced there in 1878 ?

Others who in the 'nineties were then children,
have since become popular actors, notably Barry
and Stanley Lupino. In 1897 I ran a pantomime
at the Crystal Palace in partnership with Mr.
George Lupino and Mrs. Lupino, the parents of
Barry and Stanley. We opened on Easter Monday
with " Robinson Crusoe," and we gave several
shows during the day. The cast was as follows :
Mrs. George Lupino, " Robinson " ; George Lupino,
" Friday " ; Barry Lupino," the Cat " ; and myself,
" Mrs. Robinson Crusoe." There were also three

216

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

other artistes. The outlay over the production
was not costly, and we did exceedingly well with our
five performances on Easter Monday. But as the
week drew nearer its end the treasury became
smaller and smaller. The weather was against us.
It was terribly bitter and we were all laid up with
colds. I remember Stanley and Mark — two quaint
little chaps — crying at the wings with cold and their
mother throwing in a few remarks, sometimes of
remonstrance and sometimes consolation. Stanley
has no need to cry nowadays. He is a clever and
successful actor. His business is to make people
laugh, and right well he does it.

My recollections of Drury Lane and Covent
Garden would not be complete without some men-
tion of the fancy dress balls which were once so great
a feature of the " Covent Garden " winter seasons.
Sir Augustus Harris enjoyed these revelries
thoroughly, but he had an eye to business all the
same. It was only human to seize the opportunity
to exploit his Drury Lane Pantomime Company.
Prizes of a princely value were offered, such as a
carriage and pair, for the best and most original
dresses, and Dan Leno, Herbert Campbell and
myself were competitors. One or the other always
carried off the first prize, but never landed one !
It was, to use Arthur Roberts' beautiful word,
" spoof." I remember that Dan Leno on one
occasion personated a policeman, and got into a
squabble with a genuine " copper " outside the
theatre and was collared for obstruction ! It was
a merry time.

Then there were the Baddeley Cake celebrations
on Twelfth Night, got up by Sir Augustus Harris on

217 P

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

a scale little dreamt of by the old actor who
conceived the idea and left money to carry it out.
The demeanour of Sir Augustus Harris on these
and other functions of which he was the prime
mover struck me as very characteristic. He was
practically the host, but he never introduced him-
self into the proceedings in this capacity, yet was
always in evidence. It was as though he was saying,
" Here you are, my friends, I've done my best for
you. Do what you like and enjoy yourselves, but
don't take any notice of me " ; an attitude which
made the visitors crowd round him all the more.
It is not too much to say that when Sir Augustus
Harris died I lost one of the dearest friends and the
best manager I ever had. I cannot imagine a
greater contrast than between his treatment of
me and that of a certain circus proprietor into
whose pocket I put many hundreds of pounds.
All circus proprietors, however, are not like this.
A former head — now passed away — of the particular
firm I have in my mind was not. He was a gentle-
man.

218

CHAPTER XVIII

American comic films an imitation of the English harlequinade.
Charlie Chaplin's " method." The modern pantomime not
produced for children. The clown's " business " spoilt by the
orchestra. A defence of the harlequinade. Grimaldi and
summer pantomimes. What a pantomime should be. A
suggestion. The best clowns with circus experience. The art
of pantomime running in families. The Leopolds, the Vokes
family, the Lupinos. The difference between a circus and a
pantomime clown. Watty Hillyard, Wallet and Tom Matthews.
Mr. W. S. Gilbert as harlequin. W. J. Payne, the " King of
Pantomime." How Dan Leno and Herbert Campbell worked
together. The clown of the harlequinade works by himself.
Sausages and the red-hot poker. The origin of the clown.
Eighteenth century pantomimes. Grimaldi. Other famous
clowns. How old circus jokes were made. A plea for the
revival of the harlequinade.

It seems to me that much of the comic stuff which
comes from America on the films is simply an
exaggerated form of the old knock-about harle-
quinade " business " of the English pantomime.
The disappearances and transformations which
followed a tap of the harlequinade's magic wand
have been taken bodily and worked out in an
outrageously burlesque form. But in the film
the effect of magic is absent ; the ingenuity of the
property master in the pantomime had really a
suggestion of the black art about it. The lather

219

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

or whitewash with which the clown plays such
pranks reappears on the film with a monotonous
repetition which has become terribly wearisome.
Even the agile leaps of the harlequin have been
appropriated. I make bold to say that nearly every
artifice in the so-called " comedy " films is based
on the " business " of the old harlequinade.

Even Charlie Chaplin's shows are akin to the
clown's knock-abouts and tumbles. They are of
course not in the same street with the stereotyped
idiotic " comedy " films which have neither rhyme
nor reason. Charlie Chaplin is a great artist. His
facial fertility is inimitable and so are his body
contortions. Method and the art of surprise are
always at his command, and his sense of the
ludicrous is wonderfully keen. But at the bottom
of his productions is the clown's business, and
this is a sure laughter getter.

Charlie Chaplin, as all the world knows, made
a hit in Fred Karno's " The Mumming Birds,"
and he was as successful with this on his first visit
to America as in England. But his second visit
with the " Wow Wows," of which company I
was a member, as already mentioned, did not
altogether please the American public, ^v^hich has
an unpleasant habit of making up its mind before-
hand what it is going to like. My experience
is that our American cousins, in spite of their
" go ahead " reputation, are slow to accept
novelties, especially if they're not of native pro-
duction, and the audiences having identified
Charlie Chaplin with a certain eccentric and mirth
provoking personage were disappointed at not
finding the same gentleman. Anyhow, Charlie

220

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Chaplin has now found fame and fortune in
the States. This cannot be said of other music
hall " stars " who have crossed the Atlantic.
Mr. H. G. Hibbert, in his " Fifty Years of a
Londoner's Life," reminds us that Jenny Hill,
the popular " Vital Spark," was a comparative
failure. Albert Chevalier was hardly a success,
certainly not a great one. Dan Leno did not go
down at all ; Chirgwin took the first boat home.
The gentleman who did not like my appearance
in my clown's dress and wanted to express his
feelings by putting a bullet through me is, I am
afraid, typical of many Americans. Was not a
Western audience once beseeched not to shoot
the pianist, as he was doing his best ?

Whether I am right or wrong as to the indebted-
ness of comedy films to the harlequinade perhaps
doesn't matter very much ; the point is that the
cinema crowds laugh at the grotesque situations
pictured, and this I needn't say is the object of
the clown's antics and the practical jokes he plays.
The essence of the whole thing is an illustration
of the principle laid down by a philosophical
student of human nature, that there was something
in the misfortunes of our dearest friends not
altogether unpleasing to us. I contend that
the way people are tickled by film fun makes it
all the more puzzling why harlequinades are for
the moment things of the past, since the knock-
about material in the harlequinade is the same
in both. I take it that of late years pantomimes
have been produced to attract the grown-ups rather
than the children. When a harlequinade is intro-
duced it forms but a small portion of the enter-

221

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

tainments and comes in when the audience is
getting tired, and when many, after the queer
EngUsh fashion, are hurrying away. Why certain
playgoers are so afraid of the fall of the curtain
has always been a mystery to me.

What, however, is especially annoying to the
clown and to the other members of the harlequinade
is the indifference, not to say contempt, of the
orchestra for the whole thing. It's pretty clear
that the fiddlers, the flautists, the cornet and
trombone players and the rest, look upon the
harlequinade as something which keeps them out
of their beds. Often I've been disconcerted by the
whispered entreaties from the gentlemen below
" to get on with it," " hurry up," " we want to
get away," and the like. What chance has anyone
to introduce an impromptu bit of business — and
an impromptu sometimes makes a great hit —
when he's having his pitch queered in this fashion ?
I declare that not a few times I've had a good
wheeze quite spoiled by a vicious bang on the
big drum at the wrong moment.

People's sense of humour is much the same
now as it ever was — not so coarse, perhaps — but
this is the only difference. Flexmore, a famous
clown of the 'forties and 'fifties, indulged in a
broadness which wouldn't now be tolerated, other-
wise he carried on the tradition of Grimaldi, and
this tradition has in a way been preserved to the
present day.

We are told by some superior folk that the
harlequinade of the old school was based on
brutality. So also was Punch and Judy. It is
also said to be vulgar. Can it be more \nilgar

222

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

than some of the revues with which the pubUc
have been favoured during recent years ? I con-
tend that the clown's " business " is honest
humour with a distinct note of human nature
in it which appeals to one's instincts for mirth.
The pit and gallery have always recognised this
openly, but I am afraid that managers nowadays
think more of the boxes, the stalls and the dress
circle ; and the pit and gallery have literally
to take a back seat. At one time the reverse
was the case.

It is a very remarkable fact that in the palmy
days of the pantomime Christmas was not the
only time when clown and pantaloon played their
pranks. Pantomime really seemed to go on all
the year round. Grimaldi many a time sang his
famous songs, " Tippity-witchet " and " Hot
codlins " in the blazing days of July ! In this
particular month in 1823 at the Coburg Theatre
(now the " Old Vic ") no less than three pantomimes
were produced. " Salmagundi," or the " Clown's
dish of sorts," a mixture of the harlequinade of
previous years, was played on July 1st and ran
for six nights ; on the 8th came " Harlequin
and the Three Wishes," or " Puck and the Black
Pudding," and on the 15th " Disputes in China,"
or " Harlequin and the Kong Merchants," and
in each Grimaldi was the clown. True, Grimaldi
was a genius, and it was to see him that the theatre
was packed nightly, but it was pantomime all
the same and more — it was almost entirely what
we have come to call the harlequinade.

I needn't try to trace the causes of the decline
of the harlequinade and why the " story " with

223

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

its gorgeous scenery and the introduction of music-
hall " stars " have gradually pushed it into a sort
of afterthought. The taste of the public may have
changed (though I do not think it has) or the
desire for novelty on the part of managers may
have had something to do with it. WTiatever may
be the reason, it is pretty clear that at present
the harlequinade is little better than a thing of
shreds and patches.

It may be argued that I, as a professional clown,
am prejudiced in this respect, but I still maintain
that the harlequinade does not receive that atten-
tion from the managers to which, by reason of its
historical associations and power of attraction, it
is entitled, and I am quite certain that thousands
of parents throughout the United Kingdom will
support me in that opinion.

There are many people who seldom, or never,
go to a theatre except at pantomime time. To them
it is a paternal duty to give the children an oppor-
tunity of enjoying the rollicking pranks of clown,
pantaloon, and policeman, and to gaze in rapture
at the graceful evolutions of harlequin and
columbine. To such parents the curtailment of
the harlequinade is a distinct disappointment
and a source of regret, if not of offence. I will
undertake to say if a poll of the realm were taken
on the question of retaining or abolishing the
harlequinade, the result would be an overwhelming
majority in favour of the clown and his acolytes.
Not only do the children enjoy the fun, but the
parents are made to feel young again, and the
spectacle of their youngsters screaming with
laughter and clapping their hands, does them good

224

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

in bod,y and spirit, and takes them out of them-
selves.

Many a time I have had to go on the stage when
in indifferent health, and the burst of hearty greet-
ing from the kiddies has driven away all symptoms
of indisposition, and has been far more beneficial
than a dose of the most expert doctor's medicine.

Pantomimes were originally intended almost
solely for the entertaining of the younger generation,
and the first part was always described as the
" opening." It was, and still is, the harlequinade
that follows which the youngsters looked forward
to with delighted longing ; their merry laughter
and shrill cries of excited joy, as the fun proceeded,
in surprise after surprise, were a pleasure to the
older members of the audience, who felt that they
were duly rewarded for having brought the children
to revel in the frolics of " Joey," their bosom
favourite and cherished idol.

An old friend of mine in the theatrical profession
once seriously suggested that the harlequinade,
instead of being the " tag " of a pantomime,
should be put on the first scene or early in the
" opening." Further, my friend urged that his
proposed plan could be easily carried out without
much offence to the traditional proprieties by a
reversal of the old system of converting, in the
transformation scene, the wicked Baron into
clown, the fairy Prince into harlequin, and so on
with the other characters. The clown could be
converted by the fairy Queen into the wicked
Baron, the harlequin into " principal boy," the
columbine into " principal girl," and similar
transformations effected with the other characters.

225

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Having many years' experience of pantomimes,
I have learned Vv^hat fantastic tricks authorised stage
managers can play with original schemes, and I
see no insurmountable difficulty in the adoption
of my friend's suggestion. After all, a so-called
pantomime with no harlequinade, or with the mere
apology for one, is no pantomime at all, but simply
a glorified revue.

But with a revival of the harlequinade comes a
difficult question. Where are the clowns to come
from ? Clowns, like poets, are born, not made ;
the taste must be in one, and it is not against you
if you haven't been blest with beauty. Grimaldi
would have been nothing without his mirth-
provoking face. The same may be said of
comedians, but there is a difference. The comedian
personates many characters, the poor clown has
but one. The comedian has all the advantage of an
eccentric dress, of an eccentric make-up ; the
clown can only have one costume, and red and white
paint obliterates all his facial play. Moreover,
whatever natural talent he may possess for fooling,
it is of not much good unless he has had the training
and has started young.

Nearly all successful pantomimists have com-
menced learning their art almost as soon as they
were out of the cradle. It is singular that the
particular gift of mumming often runs in families.
Grimaldi's father and grandfather were dancers,
and Joe was not two years old when he made his
first appearance on the stage. The Leopolds with
their uncle Edward Giovanelli, of Highbury Barn
fame, the Yokes family and the Lupinos, are
examples. Pantomime training is very difficult

226

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

nowadays. When the old-time travelhng circus
and mumming both were in their glory it was easy
enough, and if I had my time to go over again
I would begin in a travelling circus ; as, apart from
the varied experience, you have the open-air life,
and the happy-go-lucky way of looking at things.

There is a great difference between the circus
and the pantomime clown, and I think I can say
I am master of what both have to do, as I have
spent thirty years of my life in each capacity. A
circus clown has to knock about, tumble, crack
wheezes, and do without properties. The work
is a hundred times harder than in a pantomime.
You must, in addition, be apprenticed to the
circus fun, whereas to be a pantomime clown an
apprenticeship isn't necessary. One of the first
pantomime clowns I ever saw was Watty Hillyard,
who commenced as a circus clown with John and
George Sanger. A capital circus clown also was
Wallet, who revived the old title, in abeyance since
the time of James I, of the " Queen's Jester." He
was a fine acrobat and moreover wrote a book
giving an account of his early life as a circus clown.
Dan Leno, after his performance before royalty,
aspired to be called the " King's Jester," and in
his last sad days, in his moments of " exaltation "
he fancied he had the power of conferring titles
upon all and sundry. Paul Herring, who began
his career in the circus, was, I think, the best
pantaloon of his day.

Among the celebrated clowns of old Victorian
times was Tom Matthews, who founded his style
on Grimaldi's. He was nothing of an acrobat,
but according to H. J. Byron he " relied on a jolly

227

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

round face, a mouth like Piccadilly Circus, a rich
semi-hoarse roaring voice and undoubted powers
of pantomime .... though Tom Barry
exceeded everybody as a circus clown." Writing
in 1879 Mr. Byron said : " Pantaloons and
harlequins are probably pretty much the same as
they have been for years, though the former are
too apt to talk and the latter think more of dancing
than of the supposed attributes of the owner of the
magic bat. When Mr. W. S. Gilbert played
harlequin I saw for the first time for years a consis-
tent impersonation of the character. Albeit further
practice and increased confidence might have
improved certain small details, the representation as
a piece of sustained pantomime action with a
meaning in it was, I admit, to me refreshing."

I am afraid that if the clown is not appreciated
as he used to be, still less is the harlequin. A
month or so before the words quoted above were
written, W. J. Payne (the founder of another
pantomimic family — Harry Payne, the well-known
clown, was his son), who was termed the " King
of Pantomime," died. W. J. Payne was trained
under Grimaldi and Bologna, the harlequin of
Grimaldi's day ; and appeared first as clown
and afterwards as harlequin. In his prime the
essence of pantomime was dumb show, and of
this art he was a perfect master. *' In each of his
gestures," wrote Mr. Clement Scott in the Theatre
Magazine, " there was an intelligible meaning.
His imperturbably serious air in the most comic
situations was one of his strongest points. The
mask he wore did not entirely cover his face,
and the play of his features could be distinctly

228

Mr. and Mrs. W.
Walker at their
home at Peggotty's
Hut, Gorleston-on-
Sea, with tlieir mas-
cot cat " Whimmy

Whimsical Walker
enjoying the sea air
Gorleston-on-Sea

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

seen Both old and young could

understand and enjoy such humour as his."

It may be said that children are not so imagina-
tive as they used to be ; that the modern cramming
system of education by competition has killed
the natural instinct for boisterous, unrestrained
fun. Left to themselves I don't think this would
be the effect. I've no doubt that there are some
priggish youngsters who may look down with
pitying contempt on clown and pantaloon as too
kiddish for them, but I'm quite sure the natural
healthy child loves both.

The harlequinade is one of the traditional
institutions of the stage which has a firm hold
on the affections of the people — an affection which
has been transferred from generation to generation,
and it always will have- a great attraction for
the young. Kept clean and wholesome it will
live as long as there is a theatre in the country.
From royalty downwards through all ranks of
society, everyone has a warm corner in his
or her heart for clown, pantaloon, harlequin and
columbine.

Of course a good deal of the clown's fooling
is traditional, and this to an extent makes him
independent of the stage manager, but there is
nothing to prevent him inventing fresh business,
as indeed I have often done. He has only the
pantaloon to consider, and this simplifies matters.
Now in the opening the " stars " have to fit them-
selves into the story and adapt their humour
and characteristics by which they gained their
name on the music hall stage to the various
situations, and also have an eye to the other

229

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

actors. Dan Leno in an interview with an Era
representative is made to say —

" In my first London pantomime at the Surrey
the low comedians used to spend half the day
working out " business " together. We thoroughly
enjoyed the fun. But at Drury Lane it is all so
different. We hardly knew where to find each
other. I declare on the first nio-ht we were like
so many pieces on a chess board just moved here
and there by the stage manager. In time this
feeling diminishes, but Herbert Campbell and I
never get a real chance of working up fun to-
gether." Whether this puzzled feeling referred
to the Augustus Harris regime or to that of Mr.
Arthur Collins I am unable to say. Anyhow,
a passage in Mr. Jimmy Glover's reminiscences
(" Jimmy Glover, his book ") is pertinent to the
matter. " Nearly everything,'* writes Mr. Glover,
" in which he (Dan) succeeded at the ' Lane ' he

was ' written for ' Leno's successes with

Harris were as nothing compared with his triumphs
with Collins. Harris let him come on and simply
be ' Dan Leno.' Collins thought out the Leno
style and gave him the Leno material for the Leno
triumph. Every funny situation or scene was
built for him, first by the producer and then written
round b^'^ the librettist. He had the least initiative
sense of humour of anyone I ever met ; once
provided with the material he had the best con-
tributory and constructive power."

It is the reverse of this where the harlequinade
is concerned. The clown and pantaloon have
nothing to do with the comedians in the opening
— in fact they never meet. I write and produce

280

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

all my scenes and comic business myself, and I
am my own stage manager. I, of course, make
Mr. Collins acquainted with all I have to do,
and he does not interfere, so that if my efforts
are a success or a failure the entire responsibility
rests with me. But there are two important
properties which I must have. One is the sausages
and the other the red hot poker. The children
insist upon having these and would not consider
the clown worth much if he left them out.

I have often wondered why a clown had such
a fancy for sausages. Of course, when purloined
they were easy to slip into his capacious pocket,
but this isn't altogether a satisfying explanation.
They may or may not have been first thought of
by Grimaldi, but pantomime history is silent on
this important matter. Discussing the matter
with a literary friend accustomed to research
he was equally blank, but he undertook to try
to solve the puzzle. At the same time he remarked
that there was not the same difficulty with the
red-hot poker, as it had been made use of as a
practical joke from time immemorial, certainly
as far back as Chaucer, the broad jape in " The
Miller's Tale " to wit.

However, he set to work and found that the
industrious Mr. W. J. Thoms had dug up all
that can be said about clowns. The harlequin,
as most people know, had its origin in Italy, and
was practically introduced here by Rich (who called
himself Lun) at the Lincoln's Inn Fields Theatre.
But the Italian harlequin was not quite the same
as the English one. Indeed, he seems to have
undertaken the knock-about business which now

231

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

belongs to the clown. Addison says : " Harlequin's
part is made up of blunders and absurdities ;
he is to mistake one name for another, to forget
his errands, to stumble over queens, and to run
his head against every post that comes in his way.
This is all attended with somethincr so comical
in the voice and gestures that a man who is sensible
of the folly of the part can hardly forbear to be
pleased with it.

When pantomime was first played in England
is difficult to establish, but a dancing master at
Shrewsbury, one Follet, has the credit. His
entertainment, " The Tavern Bilkers," produced
at Drury Lane in 1702, was entirely done in
pantomime. It was only played for five nights.
FoUet's next invention, the " Loves of Mars and
Venus," in 1716, also at Drury Lane, was far
more successful. The new show caught the taste
of the town, and in 1717 some dancers from France
and a German named Swartz, with two dogs who
could dance a minuet, became the rage, and the
legitimate drama, in spite of the acting of Booth,
Wilks and Gibber, was neglected.

With Grimaldi the clown came into his own,
Leigh Hunt describes him as " round-faced, goggle-
eyed, knock-kneed, but agile to a degree of the
dislocated, with a great smear for his mouth, and
a cap on his head half fool's, half cook's." Grimaldi
invented the clown and his tricks as we know both
to-day, and it is pretty certain that the introduction
of sausages is his. Mr. Thorns says " the clown
of the present day is indubitabl}'^ descended from
one common stock — Punch," and he points out that
so recently as 1800 the character of Punch was

282

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

substituted for that of the clown in the pantomime
of Harlequin, " Amulet, or the Magic of Mons."

We learn further that the clown of the present
day seems gradually to have appropriated the
peculiarities of harlequin, clown and pierrot. The
pierrot is not often seen in modern pantomime,
but we have occasionally had skilled acrobats
figuring as " sprites." The first clown who combined
the three characters was Follet, whose antics were
greatly relished by George the Third. " Farmer
George " indeed is said to have repeatedly attended
Follet' s performances for the express purpose of
seeing him in one of his celebrated tricks, swallowing
a carrot !

Delpini, Laurent, Bradbury, Paulo, and Southby
were famous clowns, but all were topped by
Grimaldi. As for the circus clown, Mr. Thoms
remarks that he had " a certain series of standard
jokes which remained unchanged for twenty
years." Very singular is the statement that these
old jokes were for the most part coined by the
Westminster scholars, and brought out at Astley's,
where the clown having been coached up and
properly instructed how to introduce them, used
to fire them off, the rival makers listening with the
greatest anxiety to ascertain which told best. Those
which were most successful became of course
stock jokes.

And this is all that my friend could find out about
clowns. I suspect that the character was gradually
worked up by easy stages, and that save in the
case of Grimaldi there was no sudden advance.
But Grimaldi was a genius and an artist. What
greater tribute to him can be imagined than that

233 Q

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

paid by the great tragedian John Kemble, who
watching him from the wings one night exclaimed :
" My sister (Mrs. Siddons) never did anything
finer in her hfe than that man is doing now in his
way." Let another Grimaldi show himself and if
he be allowed to have his chance the harlequinade
will be born again.

I am under the impression that nursery stories
and fairy tales, as themes for pantomime treatment,
were not used until after Grimaldi had passed away.
One thing is certain ; they were made immensely
popular by that versatile genius E. L. Blanchard,
who for many years was identified with "Drury
Lane " on Boxing nights. How many pantomimes
he wrote it would be hard to say.

In conclusion I would say, that in my judgment
the English taste in regard to amusements is too
firmly fixed in the English character to be destroyed
by passing fashions. It has a way of harking back
to original instincts. The amazing success of the
revival of "The Beggar's Opera," which most theatri-
cal managers ten years ago would have sworn was as
dead as a doornail, is a case in point. Some thirty
years ago Clement Scott wrote : " Pantomime,
though an exotic, has evidently taken deep root in
the United Kingdom, and the peculiar humours of
the clown — a figure of essentially British origin —
will probably serve to extend its lease of life for an
indefinite period." Mr. Scott says that out of
every fifty theatres in the country at that time, forty-
nine were playing pantomime. Many novelties in
the theatrical world have come and gone since then,
but few have become permanent features of stage
representation. The so-called " legitimate " drama

284

ONTAaid

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

hasn't been ousted. Shakespeare doesn't spell
bankruptcy, as F. B. Chatterton thought it did
because it failed with him ; and the pantomime
will not become a thing of the past, in spite of
superior people. It can wait its time. That in
some shape or form it will revive and fulfil its
destiny as a thoroughly English humorous
entertainment, I believe is certain.

235

CHAPTER XIX

The films. A new experience. The humours of rehearsals.

Chasing a hat. An embarrassing encounter with bees. How

" little Nell " was buried. Blowing up " old Peggotty." The

" Starting Point." A glance back at a life's work.

On my return from America in 1913 I had an
opportunity of exploiting myself on the " movies."
Nothing could have presented a greater contrast
to what I had been accustomed to than posing in
front of the cinematograph camera. It was as far
as the poles are asunder from circus and pantomime
clowning. One had to get used to performing
without the stimulus of an audience. A rehearsal
for a film picture is totally different from a rehearsal
on the stage. If anything is imperfect, or goes
wrong with the latter, it is of no very great
consequence. To go back and try once more is
easy enough. But with the camera — dear me, no.
The repetition of a series of photographs involves
a good deal of trouble and stage direction.

But that which I found essentially unfamiliar

236

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

was the necessity of adapting oneself to the situation
and surroundings and the calling up of the suitable
facial expression to the satisfaction of the producer.
In my harlequinade scenes, as I have already
mentioned, I was left entirely to myself, and I
worked everything out on my own responsibility,
but for the cinematograph all had to be in accord-
ance with the ideas of the producer. But as my
" business " was to be comic, and as all my life
I had been pantomiming in some shape or form,
the thing came to me easily enough, especially
in humorous scenes.

I am bound to say, however, that occasionally
incidents unexpectedly happened during rehearsals
which to me were funnier than those which
subsequently appeared on the screen. I remember
during my engagement with Hep worth's an
unrehearsed episode occurred, which caused no
end of amusement not only to me but to others,
save the old gentleman who was the cause of the
laugh. The thing occurred at the studios at
Walton-on-Thames. My instructions were to walk
down the main street and at a given moment to
permit my straw hat to be blown off by a convenient
wind, supplied by means of a carpet thread attached
to the brim and pulled by an unseen person.

I believe Sir Herbert Tree once set down a
piece of advice, among other gems of wisdom
in his commonplace book, which ran : "If your
hat blows off don't trouble to run after it ; some-
body is certain to do it for you." I found the
last half of this " tip " to be perfectly true, but
unfortunately the " business " of the part I was
playing mader it essential that / should run and

237

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

make a great pother over doing it. The hat went
off properly and skidded along the street with
me in full cry after it. My predicament and
apparent distress at once excited the pity of a
gentleman who, out of the kindness of his heart,
dropped the portmanteau he was carrying and
started to assist me, not seeing the camera on
the watch, and probably not understanding if
he did see it.

Of course the scene was within an ace of being
spoilt and I yelled to him to get away. Thinking
no doubt that I was a fool to reject his help, he
kept on running, though he must have wondered
where the miraculous wind came from, for there
was not a breath of air stirring. At last I over-
took the kind gentleman and we had a few words,
which were not of the most kindly nature, and
indeed we might have come to blows had not
the producer appeared on the scene and explained
what was being done. Then I shook hands with
my would-be friend, he departed to look after
his portmanteau, and the photographs were taken
over again.

This really was my first attempt for the
*' pictures " and the mishap did not seem to me
to be very encouraging. However, the film was
a big success and meant for me a six months'
engagement. During that six months I played
many varied parts, one of the oddest being the
impersonation of one of the " Tiller Girls." There
were three of us. Alma Taylor, Chrissy White
and myself. I was told that I made a lovely girl.
On this point I have no opinion, but I'm quite
certain that we had great fun.

238

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Another droll rehearsal incident was that in
which a hive full of bees figured. This hive was
necessary to the plot of a little play in which I
was supposed to be the uncle of a schoolboy who
was spending his holidays at my country house.
In the course of his rambles the boy strolls into
a wood and chances to overhear a couple of
fellows concocting a plan to break into my house,
kidnap my nephew the schoolboy and keep him
until he is ransomed. The boy, one of the pre-
cocious, ingenious urchins only to be met with
on films, is ready with a counter plot. What
could be simpler and more effective than to place
a beehive each side of the window which the
kidnappers were sure to select, and connect the
hives with a rope which would not be seen. The
fellows had only to catch their feet in the rope,
which of course they would be obliging enough
to do, the hives would be upset, and the bees would
attack the intruders and sting them to death or
thereabouts.

The drawback to the preparation was that
the film management had no bees. However,
a bee keeper was found in the neighbourhood,
and he not only agreed to let his hives but he
would also instruct us how to handle the bees,
which after all was the main point. A river
separated the beekeeper's place from the spot
where we were rehearsing, and a boat was hired
to bring the hives across. Five of us were com-
missioned for the job and we were conducted by
the owner to where he kept his bees. Noticing
one or two of the party hanging back the bee-
keeper remarked :

239

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

" There's nothing to be frightened about.
You've only got to be quiet and not disturb them.
They won't hurt you."

But somehow the man's preparations did not
reassure us. He had crape over his face and long
gloves which came a considerable distance up his
arms. He was proceeding with his instructions
how to handle bees when the walking stick on
which one of the party was leaning slipped ; he
overbalanced himself upon a hive and out came a
swarm of infuriated insects. We stood not upon
the order of going, but took to our heels helter
skelter. I scooted across the fields, the bees
after me, but reached the boat in safety, jumped
in and crossed the river without a sting. The
others were not so fortunate, and as among them
were the two rascally kidnappers, everybody said
it served them right.

I think the funniest bit of unrehearsed comedy
was that which came about in the production of
Dickens' " Old Curiosity Shop," in which I played
the part of the single gentleman who took apart-
ments in Sampson Brass's house in Bevis Marks,
and was the cause of so much solicitude on the
part of the rascally attorney and his masculine
sister, Sally.

The funeral of little Nell was to be a scene of
intense pathos and realism. Four supers were
engaged to carry the coffin to its burial place
in the woods, and a clump of high trees about
fifty yards from where the cortege was to start
was selected as an ideal spot. The procession
started with due solemnity, the bearers' heads
and shoulders being concealed beneath the pall

240

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

in the orthodox fashion. It was noticed that the
coffin was not carried perfectly level, but had a
tendency to droop at one corner. However,
no one troubled, and as the funeral cortege pro-
ceeded along the road everything was done with
such decorum and realistic effect that the passers-
by doffed their hats, as also did the drivers of
various vehicles.

Suddenly came a horrifying catastrophe. The
cause of the depression of the coffin was due to
one of the bearers being shorter than his com-
panions, and either in his efforts to keep the
coffin level or that the pall got in his way and
prevented him seeing where he was going, he
caught his foot in the root of a tree, and down he
went and the coffin followed ! Consternation and
horror were written in the faces of the bystanders
and they rushed to the scene of the catastrophe^
expecting to see the coffin smashed and the corpse
ejected. They certainly saw the first, but not the
second, for of course the body was bogus. So what
began in solemnity ended in merriment. For
all that I'm quite sure that those who had paid
such respect to the supposed dead were a little
annoyed to think how they had been *' spoofed."

Another instance of what was intended to be
serious working out in the opposite direction
occurred when I was playing old Peggotty in
" David Copperfield." The boatman's hut on
the beach was, as readers of the novel will re-
member, at Yarmouth, but the producers of the
film found it more convenient to transfer the
scene to Whitstable, and to Whitstable accordingly
I went with the other actors in the adaptation.

241

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

Meanwhile the producer had made arrangements
with some shipping agents to provide him w^ith
the hull of a fishing smack which was turned
upside dow^n on the beach to do duty for Peggotty's
dwelling place. A door and a window w^ere put in
and the interior was furnished with an American
stove with a chimney pipe, from which it was
intended a cloud of smoke should issue to suggest
the proper homely effect.

We artistes arrived on the spot and hundreds
of people gathered round, gaping wdth eagerness
to see the show and wondering what it was all
about. As a matter of fact we hadn't much to do,
the chief actors being an old sailor and a boy,
who were to engineer the smoke with the assistance
of sawdust and wood and a bucket of petroleum.
My part in the scene was to drag some fishing
nets from the back of the boat to the door and
enter the hut, where I w^as supposed to be awaiting
the arrival of my adopted son Ham. In the
meantime the producer had given instructions
to the old sailor that directly he heard a whistle
he was to light the stove.

I entered the hut, closed the door, the whistle
sounded and the old chap started to light the
fire. For some reason the fire refused to burn
in the way it was wanted and after the lapse of a
few minutes we heard the producer outside calling
for more smoke — black smoke. The blackness
was very important for the camera to obtain
the proper effect. " All right, guv'nor," grunted
the sailorman, " leave it to me." The producer
did leave it, went away and in due time blew his
whistle. I was sitting on a chair not far from the

242

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

American stove, which was nearly red hot.
" There goes the whistle, my lad," said I, and the
next minute— well, the whistle was not the only
thing that was blown. Somebody as usual had
blundered, and amid a loud explosion and clouds
of smoke black enough to satisfy the most
exacting producer we were scattered goodness
knows where !

The fact was that fool of a man had poured the
petroleum into the red hot stove and the result
was chaos. I can't say I remember exactly what
happened. I fancy I was too thankful I was still
alive to think of anything else. But there's a
funny side to everything and I shan't soon forget
the picture of the scared sailorman fingering his
hair and beard, or rather what remained of them.
Both were frizzled to a frazzle. I should like
to have heard the remarks of his wife when she
set eyes upon him. At the same time it was a
mercy he got off with nothing worse than the
spoiling of his locks. The next day the thing
had to be gone over again, barring the explosion,
and this time all went well.

Another episode which happened in the filming
of " David Copperfield " was quite as unexpected
and even more embarrassing. The producer wanted
a wreck for the final scene where Micawber,
Peggotty and others leave England for Australia.
He negotiated with the harbour of a south coast
port to furnish him with a wreck, and accordingly
in a few weeks' time the wreck in the shape of a
schooner was forthcoming. She was lying some
two miles distant from the pier, and the producer
bargained with the captain of a tug to take us out.

243

FROM SA\\T)UST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

The skipper agreed to do so for £5. We were
taken to the wreck, which we boarded, and we
were all so engrossed in our work that we did not
notice that the tug had sheered off and left us to
our fate.

The tide was coming in, the swell had its effect
on the wreck and on the ladies of the company.
The situation began to be unpleasant. We could
see the tug in the distance and had we known
how to send out a S.O.S. most certainly the
skipper of the tug would have had one. Just
when we were about to realise the shipwreck
feeling in sober earnest, the tug condescended to
come alongside, and then we made the discovery
that her captain wanted another £5 to take us
ashore. There was no alternative to submitting
to the extortion, and no doubt the producer
registered a vow that the next time he hired a
tug he would make sure that the money paid
meant " there and back."

A droll experience was that when I and several
other film artistes were engaged in a film production
in which we had to appear as old time mountebanks
and barnstormers. A farmer was found who
agreed to let us have a cow^ shed which we proposed
to turn into a mumming booth. He shifted his
cows and young bulls from their quarters in the
shed and our carpenter got to work and transformed
the place to make it suit our requirements. I had
to play the part of a tragedian of the old school,
silk hat, fur collar and cuffs, and my duty was to
perform on the drum outside the supposed show.
The moment came when all was in readiness for
the film to be taken. I started on the drum and had

244

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

not banged it as hard as I could half a dozen times
when the cattle came on at a run with the evident
intention of going for us. The farmer's son, who
was looking on at the show, yelled out that we'd
better take cover, and take cover we did by hopping
over the hedge into the next field. I rather fancy
I headed the procession, but the drum was left
behind. It turned out that among the cattle was a
young bull who was a most aggressive beast where
music (?) was concerned. Whether he recognised
in my performance on the drum the tune a certain
cow in remote times is said to have died of and
wished to avenge his deceased ancestress I can't say,
but it was a very narrow squeak.

The " Starting Point," produced by the British
Lion Co., had a breezy nautical touch about it.
The part assigned me was that of a retired old
sailor who invests his savings in the purchase of
a fishing smack. The smack goes down together
with the old chap's partner and life-long friend.
The old sailor is ruined and has to commence life
again in a very humble way. The story has a
happy ending, but I need not go into that. The
drama was a very striking one and the film had a
great success. Films in which I have played have
been, among others, those of the Gaumont Co.
(" The Fordington Twins ") and of the France
Atlantic Co. Altogether my film work was an
interesting and novel experience.

I have now arrived at the end of my tale, in
the telling of which I have tried to " nothing
extenuate nor set down aught in malice." I am
conscious that my narrative in parts is somewhat
fragmentary and disjointed, but unfortunately

245

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

this is unavoidable. As I have already had occasion
to point out, I have had to depend entirely on my
memory. Notes and memoranda, playbills,
contracts, letters and many other documents
which would have been extremely helpful to me in
compihng these reminiscences were destroyed in
the fire which took place in Drury Lane Theatre
some years ago.

All I can say is that while the task of digging
into the past has been somewhat toilsome and not
without pain, reviving as it has memories of so
many dear friends associated with me professionally
who have passed away, it has had its compensations.
I recall the many thousands of happy faces, the
merry laughter of tens of thousands of children,
which during a lengthy experience all over the world
it has been my good fortune to see and hear. I
may perhaps be pardoned if I add that I feel no
small gratification in thinking that / was the
cause of the happy faces, that it was / at whom the
boys and girls were laughing. Maybe — and I
certainly hope it has been so — I have for a few
minutes, time and again, brought brightness into
the hves of others. I think it is Thackerav who says
somewhere, " A good laugh is sunshine in the
house." It is so certainly in the theatre, not only
to those in front of the footlights but also to those
behind.

The calling of the clown is to some superior
people not very dignified. Superior people need
not bother. The clown is well able to take care of
himself. It is his mission to make people merry,
and merriment, I take it, is better than dullness,
better than dignity — often another name for

246

FROM SAWDUST TO WINDSOR CASTLE

bumptiousness. " Your merry heart goes all the
day, your sad heart tires 'a mile 'a." Shakespeare
is right !

THE END

Richmond Hill Printiiig Works, Limited, London and Bournemouth

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET

9^

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY

BRIEF

0024512

8>

m

at

IS

Jl
ot
to

^>^^3T" 5-1